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EVER  YMAN,  I  will  go  with  thee, 

and  be  thy  guide. 

In  thy  most  need  to  go  by  thy  side 


Born  about  1552  in  East  Smithfleld,  London. 
M.A.  Cambridge  in  1576.  Obtained  place  in 
Leicester's  household.  Went  to  Ireland,  1580, 
with  Lord  Grey  de  Wilton  on  the  latter* s 
appointment  as  Lord  Deputy  to  that  country, 
and  lived  there  until  1598.  Died  in  Westminster 
in  1599,  and  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey, 


The  Faerie  Queene 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES   ■    VOLUME     ONE 


J.   W.   HALES 



dutton:  new  york 

All  rights  reserved 
Made  in  Great  Britain 
at  the 
Aldine  Press  •  Letchworth  *  Herts 

J,  M.  DENT  &  SONS  LTD 

Aldine  House  •  Bedford  Street  •  London 

First  included  in  Everyman  s  Library  1910 

Last  reprinted  1966 

NO.  443 


"  The  nobility  of  the  Spensers  has  been  illustrated  and  enriched  by  the 
trophies  of  Marlborough,  but  I  exhort  them  to  consider  The  Faerie  Queene 
as  the  most  precious  jewel  of  their  coronet." — Gibbon. 

Like  all  other  great  works  of  art,  The  Faerie  Queene  is  in- 
timately and  thoroughly  associated  with  the  age  in  which  it 
was  written  and  published.  Perhaps,  even  more  than  most 
great  works,  it  is  so.  For  it  recalls  and  reflects  its  age,  not 
only  unconsciously  and  inevitably,  —  not  only  because  it 
cannot  help  itself,  so  to  speak;  for  a  writer  cannot,  if  he  will, 
sever  himself  from  his  time,  and  so  an  Elizabethan  cannot 
be  other  than  an  Elizabethan,  whatever  disguise  he  may 
assume  in  the  shape  of  language  or  form — but  also  deliber- 
ately; it  lays  itself  out  of  goodwill  prepense  to  perpetuate 
the  image  of  Elizabethan  England.  Spenser  himself  frankly 
informs  us  that  such  a  portraiture  was  intended  and  designed 
by  him  in  his  famous  Epic.  Many  persons,  he  says,  may 
fancy  that  what  he  writes  is  but  the  "  abundance  of  an  idle 
brain,"  and  "  painted  forgery,"  and  may  remind  him  that 
he  omits  to  give  any  geographical  definition  of  his  Fairy  land. 
To  such  criticasters  he  replies,  that  after  all  the  terrestrial 
world  is  yet  imperfectly  traversed  and  known,  and  the  land 
of  Fairy  may  exist,  though  no  bold  navigator  has  yet  dis- 
covered it.  Are  not  fresh,  unsuspected  countries  being  found 
and  announced  every  day  ?  But,  lest  through  the  dulness  of 
his  audience  there  should  be  any  misconception,  he  goes  on 
to  state  explicitly,  that  in  fact  his  Fairy  land  is  neither  more 
nor  less  than  England  itself.  Apostrophising  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, he  declares  that  in  the  country  he  depicts,  she  may 
confidently  recognise  her  own  kingdom.  Thus  not  only 
indirectly  and  accidentally  but  directly  and  purposefully 
The  Faerie  Queene  describes,  after  its  manner,  the  England 
and  the  Englishmen  of  Spenser's  day.  And  therefore,  if  we 
would  fully  understand  it,  the  chronology  of  its  composition 
and  of  contemporary  events  is  particularly  important. 

The  Faerie  Queene — it  is  a  mere  fragment  (about  a  quarter) 


vi  The  Faerie  Queene 

of  what  it  was  intended  to  be  * — was  not  built  in  a  day.  The 
first  three  Books  took  about  a  decade  to  write;  no  doubt 
there  were  long  intervals  in  which  Spenser  had  for  one  reason 
or  another  to  put  his  magnum  opus  altogether  on  one  side. 
The  second  three  Books  took  some  three  years.  We  first 
hear  of  The  Faerie  Queene  as  already  begun  in  1580;  we  know 
that  the  first  three  Books  were  completed  in  or  by  1589,  and 
also  that  the  second  three  Books  were  finished  in  or  by  1594. 
The  evidence  for  these  statements  is  to  be  found  in  the  corre- 
spondence of  Spenser  and  his  friend  Gabriel  Harvey,  in  Colin 
Clout's  Come  Home  Again,  and  in  Sonnet  lxxx. 

Writing  to  Harvey  from  Lord  Leicester's  House,  Strand, 
on  the  2nd  of  April  1580,  Spenser  begs  his  friend  to  return 
him  his  Faerie  Queene  that  he  may  go  on  with  it: 

"  Now  my  Dreams  and  Dying  Pelican  being  fully  finished  (as  I  partly 
signified  in  my  last  letters)  and  presently  to  be  imprinted,  I  will  in  hand 
forthwith  with  my  Faery  Queene,  which  I  pray  you  heartily  send  me  with 
all  expedition,  and  your  friendly  letters  and  long  expected  judgment  withal, 
which  let  not  be  short,  but  in  all  points  such  as  you  ordinarily  use  and  I 
extraordinarily  desire." 

And  presently  u  Hobbinol  "  delivers  himself  on  the  subject 
which  was  evidently  so  much  on  Spenser's  mind  and  so  little 
on  his,  and  delivers  himself  in  a  way  that  might  have  sup- 
pressed Spenser's  poetic  enterprise  altogether,  had  he  not 
reserved  his  independence,  or  if  his  own  instinct  had  not  made 
a  pedant's  censure  of  little  moment: 

M  In  good  faith  I  had  once  again  nigh  forgotten  your  Faerie  Queene. 
Howbeit,  by  good  chance,  I  have  now  sent  her  home  at  the  last,  neither  in 
better  nor  worse  case  than  I  found  her.  And  must  you  of  necessity  have 
my  judgment  of  her  indeed?  To  be  plain,  I  am  void  of  all  judgment,  if 
your  Nine  Comedies  whereunto,  in  imitation  of  Herodotus,  you  give  the 
names  of  the  Nine  Muses  (and  in  one  man's  fancy  not  unworthily)  come 
not  nearer  Ariosto's  Comedies  either  for  the  fineness  of  plausible  elocution, 
or  the  rareness  of  poetical  invention  than  that  Elvish  Queen  doth  to  his 
Orlando  Furioso,  which,  notwithstanding,  you  will  needs  seem  to  emulate 
and  hope  to  overgo,  as  you  flatly  professed  yourself  in  one  of  your  last 
letters.    .   .   . 

Spenser's  nine  comedies  are  not  extant,  so  far  as  is  known, 
and  so  we  cannot  compare  them  with  The  Faerie  Queene  ;  but 

1  See  M  A  letter  of  the  Author's  expounding  his  whole  intention  in  the 
course  of  this  work  ...  to  the  right  noble  and  valorous  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  Knight'*:  "  By  ensample  of  which  excellent  poets  [Tasso  and 
Ariosto]  I  labour  to  portraict  in  Arthur,  before  he  was  king,  the  image 
of  a  brave  knight  perfected  in  the  twelve  private  moral  virtues  as  Aristotle 
hath  devised, — the  which  is  the  purpose  of  these  first  twelve  books,  which, 
if  I  find  to  be  well  accepted,  I  may  be  perhaps  encouraged  to  frame  the 
other  part  of  politic  virtues  in  his  person,  after  that  he  came  to  be  king." 

Introduction  vii 

we  shall  perhaps  not  greatly  err  if  we  accept  Gabriel  Harvey's 
alternative,  and  believe  him  to  be  void  of  all  judgment  in  the 
preference  he  declares  for  them. 

The  next  mention  of  The  Faerie  Queene  at  present  observed 
occurs  in  Briskett's  Discourse  of  Civill  Life,  containing  the 
Ethike  part  of  Morall  Philosophic  This  work  describes  a 
party  of  friends  met  at  the  author's  cottage  near  Dublin. 
One  is  Dr.  Long,  Primate  of  Armagh;  and  Dr.  Long  did  not 
become  Primate  of  Armagh  till  the  summer  of  1584;  so  that, 
unless  that  title  is  anticipated — the  Discourse  was  not  pub- 
lished till  1606,  and  so  possibly  may  have  had  additions  or 
modifications — the  date  cannot  be  earlier  than  that  year; 
and  it  certainly  cannot  be  much  later,  as  there  is  good  reason 
for  maintaining  that  in  1588,  if  not  before,  Spenser  was  well 
settled  at  Kilcolman;  it  was  probably  that  very  year.  We 
learn  from  a  speech  which  Briskett's  reports  "  M.  Edmond 
Spenser  late  your  Lordship's  (Lord  Arthur  Grey  of  Wilton) 
Secretary  "  as  making,  that  The  Faerie  Queene  was  now  well 

11  For  sure  I  am  that  it  is  not  unknown  unto  you  that  I  have  already 
undertaken  a  work  tending  to  the  same  effect  [a  setting  forth  of  Moral 
Philosophy]  which  is  in  heroical  verse  under  the  title  of  a  Faerie  Queene 
to  represent  all  the  moral  virtues.  .  .  .  Which  work,  as  I  have  already 
well  entered  into,  if  God  shall  please  to  spare  me  life  that  I  may  finish  it 
according  to  my  mind,  your  wish,  M.  Briskett,  will  be  in  some  sort  accom- 
plished though  perhaps  not  so  effectually  as  you  could  desire." 

I  think  we  may  find  ground  for  supposing  that  the  whole 
of  Book  I.  and  a  good  half  of  Book  II.  were  written  before  he 
went  to  Ireland.  The  identification  of  Braggadochio  with 
the  Duke  of  Anjou  is  generally  accepted;  now,  it  was  early  in 
1580  that  the  Duke  of  Anjou  caused  so  much  annoyance,  and 
excited  so  much  disgust ;  and  it  is  in  the  early  cantos  of  Book 
II.  of  The  Faerie  Queene  that  Braggadochio  is  held  up  to  con- 
tempt. Moreover,  and  this  fact  has,  I  think,  hitherto  escaped 
notice,  it  is  in  Canto  ix.  of  Book  II.  that  we  first  have  scenes 
and  allusions  that  belong  to  Ireland  and  Irish  experiences. 
In  Stanza  6  we  have  the  first  mention  of  Arthegall,  who  un- 
questionably stands  for  Lord  Arthur  Grey  of  Wilton,  the 
special  hero  of  Book  V.  In  Stanza  13  we  have  certainly  a 
ghastly  Irish  idyll,  painted  from  the  life — such  an  idyll  as  he 
had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  in  Glenmalure  and  elsewhere,  and 
as  his  View  of  the  Present  State  of  Ireland  abundantly  illu- 
strates.    In  Stanza  16  he  speaks  in  a  simile  of  "  the  fens  of 

.viii  The  Faerie  Queene 

Allen,"  and  the  gnats  that  swarm  from  them  at  eventide. 
And  yet  again,  in  Stanza  24  he  thus  describes  a  part  of  the 
House  of  Temperance: 

"  Of  hewen  stone  the  porch  was  fairly  wrought, 
Stone  more  of  value  and  more  smooth  and  fine 
Than  jet  or  marble  far  from  Ireland  brought." 

Certainly  in  or  by  1589  the  first  three  books  were  finished, 
and  in  that  year,  as  we  gather  from  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home 
Again  (=Spenser's  Return)  —  a  poem  originally  written  in 
1 591  when  he  was  once  again  domiciled  at  Kilcolman — he 
went  with  Raleigh  to  England  to  have  them  printed  and 

Undoubtedly,  the  reception  of  his  masterpiece  greatly 
cheered  and  encouraged  him.  Even  Harvey  joined  in  the 
chorus  of  praise  and  delight  that  arose  in  its  honour.  And 
with  a  spirit  refreshed  and  renewed  the  Prince  of  Poets — 
such  was  the  title  bestowed  on  him — set  himself  to  the  con- 
tinuation of  his  splendid  task;  and,  enjoying  comparative 
quiet  in  the  interval  between  two  great  rebellions,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  producing  three  more  books  in  the  years  1591,  '92, 
'93  and  part  of  '94.  The  great  domestic  event,  contemporary 
with  these  compositions,  was  his  falling  in  love  with  the 
lady  whom,  not,  it  would  seem,  without  some  rebuffs  and 
despondencies,  he  at  last  won  to  be  his  wife  And  in  the  Sixth 
Book  of  The  Faerie  Queene  he  so  far  gives  way  to  his  private 
rapture  as  to  introduce  his  fiancee  into  the  midst  of  the  legend 
of  Sir  Calidore.  His  love-suit  and  its  anxieties,  we  learn,  had 
somewhat  interfered  with  the  progress  of  his  poem.  But  at 
last  the  lady  accepted  his  devotion,  and  presently  we  hear 
that  the  second  three  books  were  completed,  and  that  the 
work  was,  after  a  breathing  space,  to  be  continued  with 
renewed  energy  and  spirit;  see  Amoretti  lxxx.,  which  was 
certainly  written  before  the  Epithalamion,  the  song  that 
celebrates  his  marriage,  June  11,  1594. 

Two  years  later,  i.e.,  in  1596,  Spenser  again  visited  London, 
and  these  second  three  books  were  published,  the  first  three 
re-issued  with  them.  No  other  part  of  his  vast,  too  vast, 
design  was  ever  to  be  completed.  What  leisure  for  poetising 
he  had  in  London  must  have  been  fully  occupied  with  his 
Hymns  to  Heavenly  Love  and  Beauty,  his  Prothalamion,  and 
his  memorable  prose  work  A  View  of  the  Present  State  of 
Ireland,  on  which  he  evidently  spent  much  labour  and  care. 

Introduction  ix 

And  when  he  returned  to  Ireland,  the  clouds  of  another 
tebellion  were  rapidly  gathering.  In  such  deepening  dark- 
ness it  must  have  been  difficult  to  see  to  write,  so  to  speak. 
Housed  in  an  old  castle  of  the  Desmonds,  and  conspicuously 
representing  the  detestable  scheme  of  English  colonisation, 
he  was  exposed  to  no  common  danger.  The  woods  that  then 
grew  round  Kilcolman  were  rife  with  bitter  enemies  biding 
their  time.  He  must  often  have  seen  their  threatening  looks 
and  heard  their  furious  curses.  No  wonder  he  found  it  hard 
to  go  on  singing  of  the  Fairy  Queen,  or  to  sing  of  anything. 
Two  more  cantos  and  two  stanzas  of  a  third  seem  to  be  all  he 
produced  after  1594,  which — how  procured  by  the  publisher 
we  do  not  know — were  first  printed  in  the  first  folio  edition  of 
The  Faerie  Queene  in  1609,  appearing  "both  for  matter  and 
form  M  .  .  .  "  to  be  parcel  of  some  following  Book  .  .  .  under 
the  legend  of  Constancy/' 

The  composition  of  The  Faerie  Queene,  then,  as  we  have  it, 
extends  over  a  period  of  some  fifteen  years,  i.e.,  from  1579  to 
1594;  and  with  the  English  history  of  this  time  it  very  closely 
associates  itself.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  prolonged  paean  to  the  glory 
of  England.  Had  it  been  completed,  the  overthrow  of  the 
Spanish  Armada  would  have  received  its  special  celebration. 
Lords  Howard,  and  Essex,  and  Hunsdon,  and  other  great 
sailors,  and  soldiers,  and  statesmen  were  all  to  have  a  place 
in  his  gorgeous  pageant.  In  so  much  of  it  as  was  completed, 
the  Earl  of  Leicester,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
Lord  Arthur  Grey  of  Wilton,  Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  and 
many  more  of  contemporary  note  and  fame  move  before  us 
"  larger  than  human,"  transfigured  and  glorified.  The  Red 
Cross  Knight  himself, — what  is  he,  both  in  his  strength  and 
in  his  weakness  but  the  idealised  Englishman  of  Spenser's 
century  ?  Spenser  lived  in  the  midst  of  events  of  great 
magnitude  and  of  absorbing  interest,  and  in  the  midst  of  men 
that  were  equal  to  occasions  so  fateful  and  supreme;  and 
even  in  the  soarings  of  his  fancy  he  could  not  escape  from  the 
excitements  and  intensities  of  which  the  life  of  the  time  con- 
sisted. He  could  take  up  no  other  themes  than  the  great 
world  in  which  he  found  himself  provided.  Neither  in  his 
head  nor  his  heart  was  there  room  for  any  other  story  than 
the  Elizabethan,  with  all  its  terrible  hazards,  its  strange 
surprises,  its  brilliant  achievements.  He  was  fascinated  and 
possessed  by  it.  And  so,  as  we  have  seen,  England  becomes 
to  him  a  land  of  fairy,  wrapt  in  a  golden  mist  of  chivalry  and 

x  The  Faerie  Queene 

romance,    populous   with   knight-errants    of   divine    purpose 
and  indomitable  prowess. 

Strangely  enough,  The  Faerie  Queene  has  not  yet  received 
any  adequate  exploration  from  this  point  of  view,  though 
there  can  be  little  doubt  such  a  study  of  it  would  amply 
reward  the  student,  casting  fresh  light  on  well-known  persons 
and  situations,  or,  at  all  events,  presenting  them  in  unfamiliar 
attitudes  and  aspects.  To  the  moral  allegory,  some  atten- 
tion has  been  given,  but  to  the  historical  very  little.  Years 
ago  Sir  Walter  Scott,  reviewing  in  the  Quarterly  Review  Todd's 
Edition  of  Spenser,  expressed  his  regret  that  these  historical 
allusions  had  not  been  more  carefully  studied,  Upton  alone 
having  given  them  any  recognition.  "  The  ingenuity  of  a 
commentator."  he  writes,  "  would  have  been  most  usefully 
employed  in  deciphering  what  '  for  avoiding  of  jealous 
opinions  and  misconstructions  '  our  author  did  not  choose  to 
leave  open  to  the  contemporary  reader."  Of  course  such  a 
study  is  quite  distinct  from  the  purely  poetic  enjoyment  of 
The  Faerie  Queene,  and  is  not  necessary  to  any  one  who  cares 
merely  for  the  melody  of  its  verse  or  for  its  exquisite  f ancif ul- 
ness.  But  no  one  who  wishes  to  appreciate  the  work  of 
Spenser  in  its  entirety,  to  understand  his  art  as  fully  as  may 
be,  and  to  consider  his  mind  as  well  as  his  art,  no  one  who 
wishes  thoroughly  to  survey  and  comprehend  one  of  the 
masterpieces  of  English  literature  from  all  points  of  view, 
can  afford  to  neglect  a  field  of  investigation  so  large  and  so 
fruitful.  Only  he  who  so  explores  The  Faerie  Queene  will 
recognise  how  solidly  it  is  based  upon  actuality  and  fact.  It 
may  seem  to  be  one  of  the  most  purely  aerial  of  poems,  to  be 
but  an  estate  in  cloudland,  and  to  appertain  altogether  to 
the  skies ;  but  in  very  truth  its  foundations  are  firmly  planted 
in  the  England  of  Spenser's  time,  and  its  fine-woven  parapets 
and  heaven-piercing  pinnacles  are  not  mere  whiffs  and  shapes 
of  mist,  but  concrete  things,  however  delicately  refined  and 
veiled.  This  dreamer  of  dreams  was  assuredly  a  very  practical 
and  efficient  member  of  the  workaday  world;  and  his  visions 
are  not  so  unreal  and  unsubstantial  as  a  careless  reader  might 
think,  are  not  mere  airy  nothings,  but,  indeed,  subtilised  and 
spiritual  expressions  of  present  and  instant  realities.  They 
are  the  idealisations  of  actual  men  and  actual  deeds;  and  in 
them  we  see,  as  in  a  glass,  the  great  Elizabethan  age  in  all  its 
fervent,  eager  movement,  with  all  its  hopes  and  fears,  its 
passions  of  love  and  of  hate,  its  anathemas  and  its  adorations. 

Introduction  xi 

It  was  certainly  Spenser's  design  to  make  our  great  wai 
with  Spain  a  central  event  of  his  poem,  though  such  a  design 
was  not  to  be  carried  out,  and  probably,  had  Spenser's  cir- 
cumstances been  much  more  favourable,  could  not  have  been 
carried  out,  at  least  with  any  adequateness.  But  he  un- 
doubtedly set  it  before  him.  He  distinctly  announces  it  in 
the  nth  Canto  of  the  First  Book,  when  about  to  describe  the 
battle  between  St.  George  and  the  dragon,  he  invokes  the  Muse 
to  gently  come  into  his  "  feeble  breast."  And  in  his  sonnet 
addressed  to  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham,  one  of  those  prefixed 
to  The  Faerie  Queene,  he  seems  to  anticipate  this  promised 
performance — to  write  as  if  it  was  actually  executed  in  the 
first  three  Books,  and  the  Conqueror  of  the  Armada  were 
already  duly  celebrated. 

Upton  conjectured  that  Marinell  in  some  sort  represented 
this  famous  Lord  Howard,  but  such  an  identification  is 
scarcely  satisfactory.  More  probably  Spenser  sanguinely 
pictures  what  was  so  vividly  conceived  and  confidently  in- 
tended as  actually  performed.  Of  his  purpose  there  can  be 
no  question.  Essex,  too,  was,  and  was  to  be  celebrated.  But 
the  supreme  figure  of  his  poem  is  she  whose  name  is  perpetu- 
ally on  the  lips  of  contemporary  poetry,  the  great  queen 
whom  her  people  idolised,  and  whom  our  own  time,  in  spite 
of  man}7  fierce,  and  even  virulent  attacks,  regards  still  as  one 
of  the  greatest  English  Sovereigns.  Under  one  form  or 
another  Queen  Elizabeth  is  almost  omnipresent  throughout 
The  Faerie  Queene.  Gloriana,  Belphoebe,  Britomartis,  Mer- 
cilla — each  is  none  other  than  Queen  Elizabeth. 

M  In  that  Fairy  Queen,"  writes  Spenser  to  Raleigh,  "  I  mean  glory  in  my 
general  intention,  but  in  my  particular,  I  conceive  the  most  excellent  and 
glorious  person  of  our  sovereign  the  Queen,  and  her  kingdom  in  Fairy  land. 
A  nd  yet  in  some  places  else  I  do  otherwise  shadow  her.  For,  considering  she 
beareth  two  persons,  the  one  of  a  most  royal  Queen  or  Empress,  the  other 
of  a  most  virtuous  and  beautiful  Lady,  this  latter  part  in  some  places  I  do 
express  in  Belphoebe,  fashioning  her  name  according  to  your  own  excellent 
conceipt  of  Cynthia,  Phcebe  and  Cynthia  being  both  names  of  Diana." 

Thus,  that  there  is  a  correspondence  between  Belphoebe 
and  Queen  Elizabeth,  is  no  idle  conjecture  of  an  over-curious 
commentator.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  correspondence 
must  not  be  pushed  too  far ;  we  must  not  insist  on  identity  in 
all  actions  and  respects.  Spenser  does  not  surrender  himself 
to  a  mere  imitation  or  reflection  of  a  certain  set  of  facts.  He 
retains  the  right  of  variation  or  of  addition.     In  other  words, 

xii  The  Faerie  Queene 

the  correspondences  between  his  personae  and  living  people 
are  not  servile ;  they  are  general  rather  than  particular. 

Queen  Elizabeth's  arch-enemy,  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  is  more 
than  once  suggested  or  presented  to  Spenser's  readers,  though 
probably  his  completer  portrait  was  to  have  been  given  in 
the  Books  that  were  never  written.  Unquestionably  he  is 
denoted  by  Gerioneo  in  the  Fifth  Book — a  Book  remarkable 
for  its  many  unmistakable,  and  scarcely  at  all  disguised 
historical    allusions.     The   rhyming   argument   of   Canto    X. 

runs  thus: — 

Prince  Arthur  takes  the  Enterprise 

For  Belgee  for  to  fight. 
Gerioneo's  Seneschall 

He  slayes  in  Beige's  right. 

Evidently  "Gerioneo's  Seneschall"  is  the  Spanish  commander 
in  the  low  countries.  And  Prince  Arthur  here,  as  elsewhere, 
though  perhaps  not  always,  signifies  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 
If  it  shocks  us  that  such  a  very  second-rate  character  as 
Robert  Dudley  should  have  served  as  the  original  of  Spenser's 
Prince  Arthur,  we  must  remember  that  Spenser  saw  that 
handsome  but  not  high-natured  nobleman  with  different  eyes 
from  ours,  from  a  very  different  standpoint,  in  a  very  different 
atmosphere.     And  so,  when  in  Canto  XII.  we  are  told  how — 

Artegall  doth  Sir  Burbon  aide, 

And  blames  for  changing  shield; 
He  with  the  great  Grantorto  fights, 

And  slaieth  him  in  field, 

the  references  to  Henri  Quatre  and  his  change  of  religion  are 
made  sufficiently  obvious  to  the  most  careless  reader.  The 
connection  of  Duessa  and  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  in  Canto  IX. 
was  so  patent  as  to  give  extreme  annoyance  to  James  VI.  of 
Scotland.  We  learn  from  a  letter  to  Lord  Burghley  from 
the  English  ambassador  at  Edinburgh  that  great  offence  was 
conceived  by  the  King  against  Edmund  Spenser  for  publish- 
ing in  print  in  the  second  part  of  The  Faerie  Queene  (i.e.  in  the 
second  three  books,  published — 1596),  "some  dishonourable 
effects,"  as  the  King  deemed,  against  himself  and  his  mother 

Thus  it  is  clear,  in  respect  of  Spenser's  material,  that, 
largely  as  he  borrowed  from  books — especially  from  the 
Classics  and  from  the  Italians — he  borrowed  yet  more  largely 
from  contemporary  society  and  history,  and  that  in  his  great 
poem  in  a  very  full  and  special  sense  he  mirrors  the  events 

Introduction  xiii 

and  the  personages  of  his  own  age.  But,  of  course,  such 
historical  interpretations  are  quite  distinct  from  poetical 
studies.  Obviously,  the  first  duty  of  a  poem  is  to  be  poetical, 
not  historical,  or  ethical,  or  metaphysical. 

Beyond  question,  what  moved  Spenser  to  write  was  a 
genuine  poetic  impulse.  As  we  have  seen,  his  mind  was 
indeed  profoundly  interested  in  the  great  movements  of  his 
time ;  he  was  a  thoroughly  intelligent  and  devoted  Protestant ; 
he  admired  and  cultivated  "  the  new  learning  "  with  rare 
ability  and  fervent  delight;  he  was  penetrated  and  pervaded 
by  a  passionate  patriotism.  But  in  addition  to  all  these 
incitements  and  motives  he  was  actuated  by  a  real  creative 
instinct.  He  sang  because  he  must,  not  only  because  people 
listened,  and  there  was  so  much  to  say.  His  heart  was  hot 
within  him;  and  while  he  was  thus  musing,  the  fire  kindled, 
and  at  the  last  he  "  spake  with  his  tongue."  He  sang,  not 
because  he  was  learned — an  epithet  often  assigned  him  by 
his  contemporaries  ?- — or  an  intense  votary  of  the  Reforma- 
tion or  the  Renascence,  but  because  his  imagination  longed 
for  outward  embodiment,  because  it  must  needs  give  birth 
to  its  divine  conceptions,  because  it  insisted  on  relief  and 
deliverance.  In  other  words,  Spenser's  poetry  is  a  true 
incarnation  of  a  poetical  spirit,  not  the  elaborate  effort  of 
a  partisan,  literary,  political,  religious. 

It  is  his  inexhaustible  freshness  and  abundance  of  fancy, 
combined  with  his  astonishing  dominion  over  language  and 
over  rime  and  rhythm,  that  has  won  for  Spenser  his  distin- 
guishing title  of  "  the  Poets'  Poet."  The  material  he  uses  is 
sometimes  prosaic  enough,  as  especially  in  the  Second  Book, 
in  his  description  of  the  House  of  Alma,  otherwise  the  human 
body,  in  Canto  IX.,  or  in  his  versification  of  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth's History  of  the  Britons  in  the  following  Canto;  but 
under  any  and  all  circumstances,  whether  he  is  happy  in  his 
immediate  subject  or  not,  whatever  are  the  strange  tasks  he 
sets  himself,  or  ponderous  burdens  he  undertakes,  he  never 
ceases  to  be  a  poet,  and  it  can  never  be  forgoten  by  any 
capable  and  appreciative  reader  that  he  is  a  poet.  In  most 
great  poets  there  is  a  certain  vein  of  prose  which  "  crops  up  " 
from  time  to  time.  No  one  is  wise  at  all  hours,  says  an  old 
Latin  adage;  certainly,  it  is  true  that  no  one  is  poetical  at 
all  hours.     Instead  of  flying  and  soaring  according  to  their 

1  Dryden  too  remarks:  "  No  man  was  ever  born  with  a  greater  genius 
than  Spenser,  or  had  more  knowledge  to  support  it." 

xiv  The  Faerie  Queene 

proper  form  of  movement,  we  see  poets  walking,  or  even 
crawling,  i.e.,  their  speech,  in  Horace's  phrase,  becomes 
"  pedestrian."  *  Now,  whatever  may  be  Spenser's  deficien- 
cies and  faults,  it  seems  true  that  no  one  ever  lived  more 
constantly  and  fully  in  the  world  of  imagination  than  he, — 
that,  though  others  may  have  risen  higher,  no  one  ever  sank 
out  of  his  empyrean  and  touched  the  gross  earth  less  fre- 
quently or  fatally.  "  Of  all  the  poets,"  writes  Hazlitt,  "  he 
is  the  most  poetical."  Whatever  we  may  think  of  his  Fairy 
land  in  other  respects,  there  can  be  no  question  that  it  is  a 
province  of  poetry. 

Spenser  created  a  new  world,  which,  from  its  first  appear- 
ance in  the  firmament  of  literature,  had  a  special  charm  and 
fascination  for  his  brother  artists,  who,  generation  after 
generation,  delighted  to  wander  in  it. 

There  are  several  traces  in  Shakespeare's  Plays  of  his 
familiarity  with  Spenser's  Poems,  and  personally  they  must 
have  been  well  acquainted,  meeting  often  no  doubt  at  the 
house  of  their  common  friend  Lord  Essex.  Not,  however,  to 
insist  on  imperfectly  ascertained  relations,  no  less  a  person 
than  Milton  declared  Spenser  was  his  "  poetical  father  ";  and 
without  any  such  declaration  we  should  confidently  have 
inferred  this  spiritual  sonship,  so  evident  is  Spenser's  influence 
on  Milton's  earlier  poetry.  In  the  Areopagitica  also  Milton 
speaks  of  "  our  sage  and  serious  Spenser  whom  I  dare  be 
known  to  think  a  better  teacher  than  Scotus  and  Aquinas." 
Dryden  and  Pope  are  by  no  means  poets  of  the  Spenserian 
type ;  yet  both  of  them  testify  their  debt  and  their  admiration. 
With  the  revival  of  the  imagination  in  the  last  century  arose 
a  yet  warmer  enthusiasm  for  Spenser.  Thomson's  lines  in  his 
Summer  are  highly  appreciative  as  well  as  discriminating: — 

Nor  shall  my  verse  that  elder  bard  forget, 
The  gentle  Spenser,  Fancy's  pleasing  son, 
Who,  like  a  copious  river,  pour'd  his  song 
O'er  all  the  mazes  of  enchanted  ground. 

Certainly  on  what  is  best  of  Thomson's  work,  as  on  The  Castle 
of  Indolence,  the  influence  of  Spenser  is  very  deeply  impressed. 
Gray  found  the  perusal  of  Spenser  one  of  his  best  incentives 
and  excitements,  when  he  wished  to  cultivate  the  poetical 
mood.  The  air  of  The  Faerie  Queene  seemed  to  arouse  and 
invigorate    his    often    languid    faculties.     To    Wordsworth, 

1  See  Hor.  Ep.  2,  i.  251;   Sat.  2.  vi.  17;   A. P.  95. 

Introduction  XV 

Byron,  Shelley,  Keats,  that  same  air  was  scarcely  less  delight- 
ful and  scarcely  less  benign. 

Amongst  our  poets  Wordsworth  was  perhaps  one  of  the 
least  susceptible  to  literary  impressions;  and  yet  we  see  with 
what  grateful  joy  he  submitted  himself  to  the  sweet  influence 
of  Spenser.  Probably  the  first  lines  Keats  wrote  were  headed 
In  imitation  of  Spenser.  Possibly  the  power  of  Spenser  over 
him  at  that  time  was  to  a  large  extent  indirect,  that  is,  was 
exercised  through  intermediate  writers ;  but  to  the  end  of  his 
life,  acting  indirectly  or  directly,  it  was  a  determining  force. 
A  last  century  writer,  one  Dr.  Sewell,  made  the  memorable 
remark  that  M  more  poets  have  sprung  from  Spenser  than  all 
other  English  writers." 

Thus,  whatever  Spenser's  defects,  however  true  it  may  be 
that  he  is  wanting  in  humour,  that  in  archaising  his  grammar 
and  his  vocabulary  he  "  writ  no  language,  that  his  characters 
lack  at  times  human  interest,  and  whatever  else  Zoiluses  or 
even  well-meaning  and  generous  critics  may  urge  against  him, 
it  remains  that  to  highly  sensitive  natures  he  is  a  poet  of 
exceptional  and  of  sovereign  charm,  of  an  inspiration  that  is 
singularly  full  and  overflowing,  so  that — 

Hither,  as  to  their  fountain,  other  stars 
Repairing  in  their  urns  draw  golden  light. 

In  spite  of  all  his  superabundance  of  fantasy,  his  want  of 
human  substance,  and  his  epic  confusions  in  The  Faerie  Queene, 
Spenser  securely  holds  one  of  the  chief  thrones  of  English 
poetry;  and  around  no  one  of  our  poetic  kings  is  there  gathered 
a  court  more  remarkable  for  its  selectness,  its  culture,  and  its 
devotion;  and  on  him,  as  we  have  mentioned,  has  been  con- 
ferred by  right  divine  the  significant  "  style  "  of  the  Poets' 
Poet.  As  we  have  seen,  from  Drayton  and  Raleigh  and  many 
another  Elizabethan  down  to  Wordsworth  and  Keats  and 
many  another  singer  of  the  nineteenth  century,  all  the  poets, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  rise  up  and  call  him  blessed.  For 
three  hundred  years  now  he  has  been  one  of  the  supreme 
inspiring  influences  of  our  literature.  If  his  work  is  not 
perfect,  yet  it  suggests  a  sense  of  perfection,  that  is,  it  brings 
vividly  before  us  one  visited  and  possessed  by  visions  of  rare 
loveliness,  and  striving  with  no  common  cunning  and  no 
common  success  to  embody  them  worthily  and  immortally. 
And,  whatever  its  imperfection  or  imperfections  as  a  whole,  it 
contains  pictures  and  passages  of  incomparable  finish    and 

xvi  The  Faerie  Queene 

beauty,  pictures  and  passages  as  nearly  perfect  as  anything 
that  has  proceeded  from  human  pen.  "  The  heavenly  Una 
with  her  milk-white  lamb  "  will  remain  to  the  end  of  time  one 
of  the  fairest  and  sweetest  figures  to  be  found  in  books.  He 
who  could  create  so  exquisite  a  being  was  unquestionably 
and  beyond  all  protest  an  artist  of  the  highest  order,  even 
though  he  failed  to  accomplish  any  other  like  achievement. 
But  indeed  The  Faerie  Queene  abounds  in  stanzas  and  in 
passages  of  surpassing  beauty,  and  in  signs  and  tokens  of  a 
nature  haunted  and  inspired  by  the  very  spirit  of  grace  and 

The  Text  and  Glossary  here  used  are  those  of  Dr.  R.  Morris, 
by  kind  permission  of  Messrs.  Macmillan  &  Co. 



works.  Shepheard's  Calendar,  ist  edition,  1579;  reproduced  in  facsimile 
by  Oskar  Sommer,  1890;  re-edited  by  Prof.  C.  H.  Herford,  1895;  Faerie 
Queene,  1590  (first  3  books)  and  1596;  2nd  edition,  1596;  Daphnaida,  1591; 
Complaints  (nine  smaller  poems),  1591;  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Again, 
1595 ;  Amoretti,  1595 ;  Fowre Hymns,  1596;  Prothalamion,  1596;  Prosopopoia, 
or  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale,  16 13  (had  appeared  in  Complaints). 

prose.  Three  Letters  to  Gabriel  Harvey,  1580;  View  of  the  State  of  Ireland, 
in  dialogue,  written  1596,  1633. 

collected  works.  First  collected  edition,  161 1;  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  9 
vols.,  1882-94;  ed.  E.  Greenlaw,  C.  G.  Osgood,  and  F.  M.  Padelford  (vari- 
orum edition),  9  vols.,  1932-49. 

biography  and  criticism.  B.  E.  C.  Davis:  Edmund  Spenser,  1933; 
Janet  Spens:  Spenser's  Fairie  Queen.  An  Interpretation,  1934;  A.  C. 
Judson:  The  Life  of 'Edmund  Spenser,  1945;  L.  Bradner:  Edmund  Spenser 
and  the  Fairie  Queen,  1948. 


The  most  high,  mightie,  and  magnificent 


Renowmedfor  pic  tie,  vertue,  and  all  gratious  government, 


by  the  grace  of  God, 

Queene  of  England,  Fraunce,  and  It  eland , 

and  of  Virginia, 

Defendour  of  the  Faith,  etc., 

Her  most  humble  servaunt 


doth,  in  all  humilitie, 

dedicate,  present,  and  consecrate 

these  his  labours, 

To  live  with  the  eternitie  of  her  fame 4 



Introduction   ..........  vii 


I.  A  Letter  of  the  Author's         ......  i 

II.  Verses  Addressed  to  the  Author      .....  5 

III.  Verses  Addressed  by  the  Author 9 

The  First  Booke,  contayning  the  Legend  of  the  Knight  of  the 

Red  Crosse,  or  of  Holinesse  .  .  .         .  .         .         .17 

The  Second  Booke,  contayning  the  Legend  of  Sir  Guyon,  or  of 

Temperaunce       .........     169 

The  Third  Booke,  contayning  the  Legend  of  Britomartis,  or  of 

Chastity 335 



Expounding  his  whole  intention  in  the  course  of  this  worke  : 

which,  for  that  it  giveth  great  light  to  the  reader,  for 

the  better  understanding  is  hereunto  annexed. 

To  the  Right  Noble  and  Valorous 


Lord  Wardein  of  the  Stanneryes,  and  Her  Maiesties 
Liefetenaunt  of  the  County  of  Cornewayll. 

Sir,  knowing  how  doubtfully  all  Allegories  may  be  construed, 
and  this  booke  of  mine,  which  I  have  entituled  the  Faery  Queene, 
being  a  continued  Allegory,  or  darke  conceit,  I  haue  thought 
good,  as  well  for  avoyding  of  gealous  opinions  and  misconstruc- 
tions, as  also  for  your  better  light  in  reading  thereof,  [being  so  by 
you  commanded,)  to  discover  unto  you  the  general  intention  and 
meaning,  which  in  the  whole  course  thereof  I  have  fashioned, 
without  expressing  of  any  particular  purposes,  or  by  accidents, 
therein  occasioned.  The  generall  end  therefore  of  all  the  booke 
is  to  fashion  a  gentleman  or  noble  person  in  vertuous  and  gentle 
discipline :  Which  for  that  I  conceived  shoulde  be  most  plausible 
and  pleasing,  being  coloured  with  an  historicall  fiction,  the  which 
the  most  part  of  men  delight  to  read,  rather  for  variety  of  matter 
then  for  profile  of  the  ensample,  I  chose  the  history e  of  King 
Arthur e,  as  most  fitte  for  the  excellency  of  his  person,  being  made 
famous  by  many  mens  former  workes,  and  also  furthest  from  the 
daunger  of  envy,  and  suspition  of  present  time.  In  which  I  have 
followed  all  the  antique  Poets  historicall;  first  Homer e,  who  in 
the  Persons  of  Agamemnon  and  Ulysses  hath  ensampled  a  good 
governour  and  a  vertuous  man,  the  one  in  his  Ilias,  the  other  in 
his  Odysseis :  then  Virgil,  whose  like  intention  was  to  doe  in 
the  person  of  Aeneas :  after  him  Ariosto  comprised  them  both 
in  his  Orlando :    and  lately  Tasso  dissevered  them  againe}  and 

2  The  Faerie  Queene 

formed  both  parts  in  two  persons,  namely  that  part  which  they  in 
Philosophy  call  Ethice,  or  vertues  of  a  private  man,  coloured  in 
his  Rinaldo ;  the  other  named  Politice  in  his  Godfredo.  By 
ensample  of  which  excellente  Poets,  I  labour  to  pourtraict  in 
Arthur  e,  before  he  was  king,  the  image  of  a  brave  knight,  perfected 
in  the  twelve  private  morall  vertues,  as  Aristotle  hath  devised ; 
the  which  is  the  purpose  of  these  first  twelve  bookes  :  which  if  I 
finde  to  be  well  accepted,  I  may  be  perhaps  encoraged  to  frame  the 
other  part  of  polliticke  vertues  in  his  person,  after  that  hee  came 
to  be  king. 

To  some,  I  know,  this  Methode  will  seeme  iispleasaunt,  which 
had  rather  have  good  discipline  delivered  plainly  in  way  of  precepts, 
or  sermoned  at  large,  as  they  use,  then  thus  clowdily  enwrapped  in 
Allegoricall  devises.  But  such,  me  seeme,  should  be  satisfide 
with  the  use  of  these  dayes,  seeing  all  things  accounted  by  their 
showes,  and  nothing  esteemed  of,  that  is  not  delightfull  and  pleasing 
to  commune  sence.  For  this  cause  is  Xenophon  preferred  before 
Plato,  for  that  the  one,  in  the  exquisite  depth  of  his  judgement, 
formed  a  Commune  welth,  such  as  it  should  be  ;  but  the  other 
in  the  person  of  Cyrus,  and  the  Persians,  fashioned  a  governement, 
such  as  might  best  be  :  So  much  more  profitable  and  gratious 
is  doctrine  by  ensample,  then  by  rule.  So  haue  I  laboured  to  doe 
in  the  person  of  Arthur e  :  whome  I  conceive,  after  his  long  educa- 
tion by  Timon,  to  whom  he  was  by  Merlin  delivered  to  be  brought 
up,  so  soone  as  he  was  borne  of  the  Lady  Igrayne,  to  have  seene 
in  a  dream  or  vision  the  Faery  Queene,  with  whose  excellent 
beauty  ravished,  he  awaking  resolved  to  seeke  her  out;  and  so 
being  by  Merlin  armed,  and  by  Timon  throughly  instructed,  he 
went  to  seeke  her  forth  in  Faery e  land.  In  that  Faery  Queeyxe  I 
meane  glory  in  my  generall  intention,  but  in  my  particular  I  con- 
ceive the  most  excellent  and  glorious  person  of  our  soveraine  the 
Queene,  and  her  kingdome  in  Faery  land.  And  yet,  in  some 
places  els,  I  doe  otherwise  shadow  her.  For  considering  she 
beareth  two  persons,  the  one  of  a  most  royall  Queene  or  Empresse, 
the  other  of  a  most  vertuous  and  beautifull  Lady,  this  latter  part 
in  some  places  I  doe  expresse  in  Belphcebe,  fashioning  her  name 
according  to  your  owne  excellent  conceipt  of  Cynthia,  (Phoebe  and 
Cynthia  being  both  names  of  Diana).  So  in  the  person  of  Prince 
Arthur e  I  sette  forth  magnificence  in  particular  ;  which  vertue, 
for  that  (according  to  Aristotle  and  the  rest)  it  is  the  perfection  of 
all  the  rest,  and  conteineth  in  it  them  all,  therefore  in  the  whole 
course  I  mention  the  deedes  of  Arthure  applyable  to  that  vertue, 
which  I  write  of  in  that  booke.     But  of  the  xii.  other  vertues,  I 

A  Letter  of  the  Authors  3 

make  xii.  other  knights  the  patrones,  for  the  more  variety  of  the 
history  :  Of  which  these  three  bookes  contayn  three. 

The  first  of  the  knight  of  the  Redcrosse,  in  whome  I  expresse 
Holynes :  The  seconde  of  Sir  Guyon,  in  whome  I  sette  forth 
Temper aunce  :  The  third  of  Britomartis ,  a  Lady  Knight,  in  whome 
I  picture  Chastity.  But,  because  the  beginning  of  the  whole 
worke  seemeth  abrupte,  and  as  depending  upon  other  antecedents, 
it  needs  that  ye  know  the  occasion  of  these  three  knights  seuerall 
adventures.  For  the  Methode  of  a  Poet  historical  is  not  such, 
as  of  an  Historiographer.  For  an  Historiographer  discourseth 
ofaffayres  orderly  as  they  were  donne,  accounting  as  well  the  times 
as  the  actions  ;  but  a  Poet  thrusteth  into  the  middest,  even  where 
it  most  concerneth  him,  and  there  recoursing  to  the  thinges  fore- 
paste,  and  divining  of  thinges  to  come,  maketh  a  pleasing  Analysis 
of  all. 

The  beginning  therefore  of  my  history,  if  it  were  to  be  told  by 
an  Historiographer  should  be  the  twelfth  booke,  which  is  the  last ; 
where  I  devise  that  the  Faery  Queene  kept  her  Annuall  feaste  xii. 
dayes  ;  uppon  which  xii.  sever  all  dayes,  the  occasions  of  the  xii. 
severall  adventures  hapned,  which,  being  undertaken  by  xii. 
severall  knights,  are  in  these  xii.  books  severally  handled  and 
discoursed.  The  first  was  this.  In  the  beginning  of  the  feast, 
there  presented  him  selfe  a  tall  clownishe  younge  man,  who  falling 
before  the  Queene  of  Faeries  desired  a  boone  (as  the  manner  then 
was)  which  during  that  feast  she  might  not  refuse  ;  which  was 
that  hee  might  have  the  atchievement  of  any  adventure,  which 
during  that  feaste  should  happen  :  that  being  graunted,  he  rested 
him  on  the  floore,  unfitte  through  his  rusticity  for  a  better  place. 
Soone  after  entred  a  fair e  Ladye  in  mourning  weedes,  riding  on  a 
white  Asse,  with  a  dwarfe  behind  her  leading  a  warlike  steed,  that 
bore  the  Armes  of  a  knight,  and  his  speare  in  the  dwarf es  hand. 
Shee,  falling  before  the  Queene  of  Faeries,  complayned  that  her 
father  and  mother,  an  ancient  King  and  Queene,  had  bene  by  an 
huge  dragon  many  years  shut  up  in  a  brasen  Castle,  who  then 
suffred  them  not  to  yssew ;  and  therefore  besought  the  Faery 
Queene  to  assygne  her  some  one  of  her  knights  to  take  on  him  that 
exployt.  Presently  that  clownish  person,  upstarting,  desired  that 
adventure :  whereat  the  Queene  much  wondering,  and  the  Lady 
much  gainesaying,  yet  he  earnestly  importuned  his  desire.  In 
the  end  the  Lady  told  him,  that  unlesse  that  armour  which  she 
brought,  would  serve  him  (that  is,  the  armour  of  a  Christian  man 
specified  by  Saint  Paul,  vi.  Ephes.)  that  he  could  not  succeed  in 
that  enterprise  ;   which  being  forthwith  put  upon  him,  with  dewe 

4  The  Faerie  Queene 

furnitures  thereunto,  he  seemed  the  goodliest  man  in  al  that  company , 
and  was  well  liked  of  the  Lady.  And  eftesoones  taking  on  him 
knighthood,  and  mounting  on  that  straunge  Courser,  he  went 
forth  with  her  on  that  adventure :  where  beginneth  the  first  booke, 

A  gentle  knight  was  pricking  on  the  playne,  etc. 

The  second  day  there  came  in  a  Palmer,  bearing  an  Infant 
with  bloody  hands,  whose  Parents  he  complained  to  have  bene 
slayn  by  an  Enchaunteresse  called  Acrasia  ;  and  therefore  craved 
of  the  Faery  Queene,  to  appoint  him  some  knight  to  performe  that 
adventure  ;  which  being  assigned  to  Sir  Guyon,  he  presently  went 
forth  with  that  same  Palmer  :  which  is  the  beginning  of  the  second 
booke,  and  the  whole  subject  thereof.  The  third  day  there  came  in  a 
Groome,  who  complained  before  the  Faery  Queene,  that  a  vile 
Enchaunter,  called  Busirane,  had  in  hand  a  most  faire  Lady, 
called  Amoretta,  whom  he  kept  in  most  grievous  torment,  because 
she  would  not  yield  him  the  pleasure  of  her  body.  Whereupon 
Sir  Scudamour,  the  lover  of  that  Lady,  presently  tooke  on  him 
that  adventure.  But  being  unable  to  performe  it  by  reason  of  the 
hard  Enchauntments ,  after  long  sorrow,  in  the  end  met  with 
Britomartis,  who  succoured  him,  and  reskewed  his  loue. 

But  by  occasion  hereof  many  other  adventures  are  intermedled  ; 
but  rather  as  Accidents  then  intendments :  As  the  love  of  Brito- 
mart,  the  overthrow  of  Marinell,  the  misery  of  Florimell,  the 
vertuousnes  of  Belphozbe,  the  lasciviousnes  of  Hellenora,  and  many 
the  like. 

Thus  much,  Sir,  I  have  briefly  overronne  to  direct  your  under- 
standing to  the  w  el-head  of  the  History  ;  that  from  thence  gathering 
the  whole  intention  of  the  conceit,  ye  may  as  in  a  handfull  gripe 
al  the  discourse,  which  otherwise  may  happily  seeme  tedious  and 
confused.  So,  humbly  craving  the  continuance  of  your  honorable 
favour  towards  me,  and  tK  eternall  establishment  of  your  happines, 
1  humbly  take  leave* 

23.  January  1589, 
Yours  most  humbly  affectionate, 

Ed.  Spenser. 


A  Vision  upon  this  conceipt  of  the  Faery  Queene 

Me  thought  I  saw  the  grave  where  Laura  lay, 
Within  that  Temple  where  the  vestall  flame 
Was  wont  to  burne ;  and  passing  by  that  way 
To  see  that  buried  dust  of  living  fame, 
Whose  tumbe  faire  love,  and  fairer  vertue  kept, 
All  suddeinly  I  saw  the  Faery  Queene: 
At  whose  approch  the  soule  of  Petrarke  wept, 
And  from  thenceforth  those  graces  were  not  seene; 
For  they  this  Queene  attended,  in  whose  steed 
Oblivion  laid  him  downe  on  Lauras  herse. 
Hereat  the  hardest  stones  were  seene  to  bleed, 
And  grones  of  buried  ghostes  the  hevens  did  perse: 
Where  Homers  spright  did  tremble  all  for  griefe, 
And  curst  th'accesse  of  that  celestiall  theife. 

Another  of  the  same 

The  prayse  of  meaner  wits  this  worke  like  profit  brings, 
As  doth  the  Cuckoes  song  delight  when  Philumena  sings. 
If  thou  hast  formed  right  true  vertues  face  herein, 
Vertue  her  selfe  can  best  discerne  to  whom  they  written  bin. 
If  thou  hast  beauty  praysd,  let  her  sole  lookes  divine 
Judge  if  ought  therein  be  amis,  and  mend  it  by  her  eine. 
If  Chastitie  want  ought,  or  Temperaunce  her  dew, 
Behold  her  Princely  mind  aright,  and  write  thy  Queene  anew. 
Meane  while  she  shall  perceive,  how  far  her  vertues  sore 
Above  the  reach  of  all  that  live,  or  such  as  wrote  of  yore : 
And  thereby  will  excuse  and  favour  thy  good  will; 
Whose  vertue  can  not  be  exprest,  but  by  an  Angels  quill. 
Of  me  no  lines  are  lov'd,  nor  letters  are  of  price, 
Of  all  which  speak  our  English  tongue,  but  those  of  thy  device. 

W.  R. 

The  Faerie  Queene 

To  the  learned  Shepeheard 

Collyn,  I  see,  by  thy  new  taken  taske, 

Some  sacred  fury  hath  enricht  thy  braynes, 

That  leades  thy  muse  in  haughty  verse  to  maske, 
And  loath  the  layes  that  longs  to  lowly  swaynes  ; 

That  lifts  thy  notes  from  Shepheardes  unto  kinges: 

So  like  the  lively  Larke  that  mounting  singes. 

Thy  lovely  Rosolinde  seemes  now  forlorne, 
And  all  thy  gentle  flockes  forgotten  quight: 

Thy  chaunged  hart  now  holdes  thy  pypes  in  scorne, 
Those  prety  pypes  that  did  thy  mates  delight; 

Those  trusty  mates,  that  loved  thee  so  well; 

Whom  thou  gav'st  mirth,  as  they  gave  thee  the  bell. 

Yet,  as  thou  earst  with  thy  sweete  roundelayes 
Didst  stirre  to  glee  our  laddes  in  homely  bowers; 

So  moughtst  thou  now  in  these  refyned  layes 
Delight  the  daintie  eares  of  higher  powers : 

And  so  mought  they,  in  their  deepe  skanning  skill, 

Alow  and  grace  our  Collyns  flowing  quyll. 

And  faire  befall  that  Faery  Queene  of  thine, 

In  whose  faire  eyes  love  linckt  with  vertue  sittes; 

Enfusing,  by  those  bewties  fyers  devyne, 
Such  high  conceites  into  thy  humble  wittes, 

As  raised  hath  poore  pastors  oaten  reedes 

From  rustick  tunes,  to  chaunt  heroique  deedeSw 

So  mought  thy  Redcrosse  knight  with  happy  hand 

Victorious  be  in  that  faire  Hands  right, 
Which  thou  dost  vayle  in  Type  of  Faery  land, 

Elizas  blessed  field,  that  Albion  hight: 
That  shieldes  her  friendes,  and  warres  her  mightie  foes, 
Yet  still  with  people,  peace,  and  plentie  flowes. 

But  (jolly  shepheard)  though  with  pleasing  style 
Thou  feast  the  humour  of  the  Courtly  trayne, 

Let  not  conceipt  thy  setled  sence  beguile, 
Xe  daunted  be  through  envy  or  disdaine. 

Subject  thy  dome  to  her  Empyring  spright, 

From  whence  thy  Muse,  and  all  the  world,  takes  light. 


Verses  Addressed  to  the  Author 

Fayre  Thamis  streame,  that  from  Ludds  stately  towne 

Runst  paying  tribute  to  the  Ocean  seas, 

Let  all  thy  Nymphes  and  Syrens  of  renowne 

Be  silent,  whyle  this  Bryttane  Orpheus  playes. 

Nere  thy  sweet  bankes  there  lives  that  sacred  crowne, 

Whose  hand  strovves  Palme  and  never-dying  bayes: 

Let  all  at  once,  with  thy  soft  murmuring  sowne, 

Present  her  with  this  worthy  Poets  prayes; 

For  he  hath  taught  hye  drifts  in  shepeherdes  weedes, 

And  deepe  conceites  now  singes  in  Faeries  deeds.  R.  S. 

Grave  Muses,  march  in  triumph  and  with  prayses; 

Our  Goddesse  here  hath  given  you  leave  to  land; 

And  biddes  this  rare  dispenser  of  your  graces 

Bow  downe  his  brow  unto  her  sacred  hand. 

Deserte  findes  dew  in  that  most  princely  doome, 

In  whose  sweete  brest  are  all  the  Muses  bredde: 

So  did  that  great  Augustus  erst  in  Roome 

With  leaves  of  fame  adorne  his  Poets  hedde. 

Faire  be  the  guerdon  of  your  Faery  Queene, 

Even  of  the  fairest  that  the  world  hath  seene!  H.  B. 

When  stout  Achilles  heard  of  Helens  rape, 

And  what  revenge  the  States  of  Greece  devisd, 

Thinking  by  sleight  the  fatall  warres  to  scape, 

In  womans  weedes  him  selfe  he  then  disguisde; 

But  this  devise  Ulysses  soone  did  spy, 

And  brought  him  forth  the  chaunce  of  warre  to  try* 

When  Spencer  saw  the  fame  was  spredd  so  large, 
Through  Faery  land,  of  their  renowned  Queene, 
Loth  that  his  Muse  should  take  so  great  a  charge, 
As  in  such  haughty  matter  to  be  seene, 
To  seeme  a  shepeheard  then  he  made  his  choice; 
But  Sydney  heard  him  sing,  and  knew  his  voice. 

And  as  Ulysses  brought  faire  Thetis  sonne 
From  his  retyred  life  to  menage  armes, 
So  Spencer  was  by  Sydney's  speaches  wonne 
To  blaze  her  fame,  not  fearing  future  harmes ; 
For  well  he  knew,  his  Muse  would  soone  by  tyred 
In  her  high  praise,  that  all  the  world  admired. 

8  The  Faerie  Queene 

Yet  as  Achilles,  in  those  warlike  frayes, 

Did  win  the  palme  from  all  the  Grecian  Peeres, 

So  Spenser  now,  to  his  immortall  prayse, 

Hath  wonne  the  Laurell  quite  from  all  his  feres< 

What  though  his  taske  exceed  a  humaine  witt, 

He  is  excus'd,  sith  Sidney  thought  it  fitt,  W,  L. 

To  looke  upon  a  worke  of  rare  devise 

The  which  a  workman  setteth  out  to  view, 

And  not  to  yield  it  the  deserved  prise 

That  unto  such  a  workmanship  is  dew, 

Doth  either  prove  the  judgement  to  be  naught, 
Or  els  doth  shew  a  mind  with  envy  fraught. 

To  labour  to  command  a  peece  of  worke, 
Which  no  man  goes  about  to  discommend, 
Would  raise  a  jealous  doubt,  that  there  did  lurke 
Some  secret  doubt  whereto  the  prayse  did  tend; 
For  when  men  know  the  goodnes  of  the  wyne, 
'Tis  needlesse  for  the  hoast  to  have  a  sygne. 

Thus  then,  to  shew  my  judgement  to  be  such 
As  can  discerne  of  colours  blacke  and  white, 
As  alls  to  free  my  minde  from  envies  tuch, 
That  never  gives  to  any  man  his  right, 

I  here  pronounce  this  workmanship  is  such 

As  that  no  pen  can  set  it  forth  too  much. 

And  thus  I  hang  a  garland  at  the  dore ; 

Not  for  to  shew  the  goodness  of  the  ware; 

But  such  hath  beene  the  custome  heretofore, 

And  customes  very  hardly  broken  are  ; 
And  when  your  tast  shall  tell  you  this  is  trew, 
Then  looke  you  give  your  hoast  his  utmost  dew,     Ignoto. 


Addressed,  by  the  Author  of  the  Faerie  Queene, 
to  various  Noblemen,  &c. 

To  the  Right  honourable   Sir   Christopher   Hatton,  Lord   high 
Chauncelor  of  England,  &c. 

Those  prudent  heads,  that  with  theire  counsels  wise 
Whylom  the  pillours  of  th'  earth  did  sustaine, 
And  taught  ambitious  Rome  to  tyrannise 
And  in  the  neck  of  all  the  world  to  rayne, 

Oft  from  those  grave  affaires  were  wont  abstaine, 
With  the  sweet  Lady  Muses  for  to  play : 
So  Ennius  the  elder  Africane, 
So  Maro  oft  did  Caesars  cares  allay. 

So  you,  great  Lord,  that  with  your  counsell  sway 
The  burdeine  of  this  kingdom  mightily, 
With  like  delightes  sometimes  may  eke  delay 
The  rugged  brow  of  carefull  Policy, 

And  to  these  ydle  rymes  lend  litle  space, 

Which  for  their  titles  sake  may  find  more  grace. 

To  the  most  honourable  and  excellent  Lord  the  Earle  of  Essex. 
Great  Maister  of  the  Horse  to  her  Highnesse,  and  knight 
of  the  Noble  order  of  the  Garter,  &c. 

Magniflcke  Lord,  whose  vertues  excellent, 
Doe  merit  a  most  famous  Poets  witt 
To  be  thy  living  praises  instrument, 
Yet  doe  not  sdeigne  to  let  thy  name  be  writt 

In  this  base  Poeme,  for  thee  far  unfitt : 
Nought  is  thy  worth  disparaged  thereby ; 
But  when  my  Muse,  whose  fethers,  nothing  fritt, 
Doe  yet  but  flagg,  and  lowly  learne  to  fly, 

With  bolder  wing  shall  dare  alofte  to  sty 
To  the  last  praises  of  this  Faery  Queene ; 
Then  shall  it  make  more  famous  memory 
Of  thine  Heroicke  parts,  such  as  they  beene : 

Till  then,  vouchsafe  thy  noble  countenaunce 

To  these  first  labours  needed  furtheraunce. 

io  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earle  of  Oxenford,  Lord  high 
Chamberlayne  of  England,  &c. 

Receive,  most  Noble  Lord,  in  gentle  gree, 
The  unripe  fruit  of  an  unready  wit; 
Which  by  thy  countenaunce  doth  crave  to  bee 
Defended  from  foule  Envies  poisnous  bit. 

Which  so  to  doe  may  thee  right  well  befit, 
Sith  th'  antique  glory  of  thine  auncestry 
Under  a  shady  vele  is  therein  writ, 
And  eke  thine  owne  long  living  memory, 

Succeeding  them  in  true  nobility : 
And  also  for  the  love  which  thou  doest  beare 
To  th'  Heliconian  ymps,  and  they  to  thee ; 
They  unto  thee,  and  thou  to  them,  most  deare: 

Deare  as  thou  art  unto  thy  selfe,  so  love 

That  loves  and  honours  thee,  as  doth  behove* 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Earle  of  Northumberland 

The  sacred  Muses  have  made  alwaies  clame 

To  be  the  Nourses  of  nobility, 

And  Registres  of  everlasting  fame, 

To  all  that  armes  professe  and  chevalry. 
Then,  by  like  right  the  noble  Progeny, 

Which  them  succeed  in  fame  and  worth,  are  tyde 

T'  embrace  the  service  of  sweete  Poetry, 

By  whose  endevours  they  are  glorifide; 
And  eke  from  all,  of  whom  it  is  envide, 

To  patronise  the  authour  of  their  praise, 

Which  gives  them  life,  that  els  would  soone  have  dide, 

And  crownes  their  ashes  with  immortall  baies. 
To  thee,  therefore,  right  noble  Lord,  I  send 
This  present  of  my  paines,  it  to  defend. 

To  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earle  of  Ormond  and  Ossory 

Receive,  most  noble  Lord,  a  simple  taste 

Of  the  wilde  fruit  which  salvage  soyl  hath  bred; 
Which,  being  through  long  wars  left  almost  waste, 
With  brutish  barbarisme  is  overspredd: 

Verses  Addressed  by  the  Author         1 1 

And,  in  so  faire  a  land  as  may  be  redd, 

Not  one  Parnassus  nor  one  Helicone, 

Left  for  sweete  Muses  to  be  harboured, 

But  where  thy  selfe  hast  thy  brave  mansione : 
There,  in  deede,  dwel  faire  Graces  many  one, 

And  gentle  Nymphes,  delights  of  learned  wits; 

And  in  thy  person,  without  paragone, 
All  goodly  bountie  and  true  honour  sits. 
Such,  therefore,  as  that  wasted  soyl  doth  yield, 
Receive,  dear  Lord,  in  worth,  the  fruit  of  barren  field. 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Lord  Ch.  Howard,  Lord  high  Admiral 
of  England,  knight  of  the  noble  order  of  the  Garter,  and  one 
of  her  Majesties  privie  Counsel,  &c. 

And  ye,  brave  Lord,  whose  goodly  personage 
And  noble  deeds,  each  other  garnishing, 
Make  you  ensample  to  the  present  age 
Of  th'  old  Heroes,  whose  famous  ofspring 

The  antique  Poets  wont  so  much  to  sing; 
In  this  same  Pageaunt  have  a  worthy  place, 
Sith  those  huge  castles  of  Castilian  King, 
That  vainly  threatned  kingdomes  to  displace, 

Like  flying  doves  ye  did  before  you  chace ; 
And  that  proud  people,  woxen  insolent 
Through  many  victories,  didst  first  deface : 
Thy  praises  everlasting  monument 

Is  in  this  verse  engraven  semblably, 

That  it  may  live  to  all  posterity. 

To  the  most  renowmed  and  valiant  Lord,  the  Lord  Grey  of  Wilton, 
knight  of  the  Noble  order  of  the  Garter,  &v. 

Most  Noble  Lord,  the  pillor  of  my  life, 

And  Patrone  of  my  Muses  pupillage ; 

Through  whose  large  bountie,  poured  on  me  rife 

In  the  first  season  of  my  feeble  age, 
I  now  doe  live,  bound  yours  by  vassalage; 

Sith  nothing  ever  may  redeeme,  nor  reave 

Out  of  your  endlesse  debt,  so  sure  a  gage, 

Vouchsafe  in  worth  this  small  guift  to  receave, 

i  2  The  Faerie  Queene 

Which  in  your  noble  hands  for  pledge  I  leave 
Of  all  the  rest  that  I  am  tyde  t'  account: 
Rude  rymes,  the  which  a  rustick  Muse  did  weave 
In  savadge  soyle,  far  from  Parnasso  Mount, 
And  roughly  wrought  in  an  unlearned  Loome : 
The  which  vouchsafe,  dear  Lord,  your  favorable  doome. 

To  the  right  noble  and  valorous  knight,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Lord 
Wardein  of  the  S tannery  es,  and  lieftenaunt  of  Cornewaile 

.To  thee,  that  art  the  sommers  Nightingale, 

Thy  soveraine  Goddesses  most  deare  delight, 

Why  doe  I  send  this  rusticke  Madrigale, 

That  may  thy  tunefull  eare  unseason  quite  ? 
Thou  onely  fit  this  Argument  to  write, 

In  whose  high  thoughts  Pleasure  hath  built  her  bowre, 

And  dainty  love  learnd  sweetly  to  endite. 

My  rimes  I  know  unsavory  and  sowre, 
To  tast  the  streames  that,  like  a  golden  showre, 

Flow  from  thy  fruitfull  head,  of  thy  love's  praise; 

Fitter,  perhaps,  to  thonder  Martiall  stowre, 
When  so  thee  list  thy  lofty  Muse  to  raise : 
Yet,  till  that  thou  thy  Poeme  wilt  make  knowne, 
Let  thy  faire  Cinthias  praises  be  thus  rudely  showne. 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Lord  Burleigh,  Lord  high 
Threasurer  of  England 

To  you,  right  noble  Lord,  whose  carefull  brest 
To  menage  of  most  grave  affaires  is  bent; 

And  on  whose  mightie  shoulders  most  doth  rest 
The  burdein  of  this  kingdomes  governement, 

As  the  wide  compasse  of  the  firmament 
On  Atlas  mighty  shoulders  is  upstayd, 
Unfitly  I  these  ydle  rimes  present, 
The  labor  of  lost  time,  and  wit  unstayd : 

Yet  if  their  deeper  sence  be  inly  wayd, 

And  the  dim  vele,  with  which  from  commune  vew 
Their  fairer  parts  are  hid,  aside  be  layd, 
Perhaps  not  vaine  they  may  appeare  to  you. 

Such  as  they  be,  vouchsafe  them  to  receave, 

And  wipe  their  faults  out  of  your  censure  grave.       E.  S. 

Verses  Addressed  by  the  Author         13 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Earle  of  Cumberland 

Redoubted  Lord,  in  whose  corageous  mind 
The  flowre  of  chevalry,  now  bloosming  faire, 
Doth  promise  fruite  worthy  the  noble  kind 
Which  of  their  praises  have  left  you  the  haire; 

To  you  this  humble  present  I  prepare, 
For  love  of  vertue  and  of  Martiall  praise; 
To  which  though  nobly  ye  inclined  are, 
As  goodlie  well  ye  shew'd  in  late  assaies, 

Yet  brave  ensample  of  long  passed  daies, 
In  which  trew  honor  yee  may  fashioned  see 
To  like  desire  of  honor  may  ye  raise, 
And  fill  your  mind  with  magnanimitee. 

Receive  it,  Lord,  therefore,  as  it  was  ment, 

For  honor  of  your  name  and  high  descent.  E.  S. 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Lord  of  Hunsdon,  high  Chamberlaine 
to  her  Majesty 

Renowmed  Lord,  that,  for  you  worthinesse 
And  noble  deeds,  have  your  deserved  place 
High  in  the  favour  of  that  Emperesse, 
The  worlds  sole  glory  and  her  sexes  grace : 

Here  eke  of  right  have  you  a  worthie  place, 
Both  for  your  nearnes  to  that  Faerie  Queene 
And  for  your  owne  high  merit  in  like  cace : 
Of  which,  apparaunt  proofe  was  to  be  seene, 

When  that  tumultuous  rage  and  fearfull  deene 
Of  Northerne  rebels  ye  did  pacify, 
And  their  disloiall  powre  defaced  clene, 
The  record  of  enduring  memory. 

Live,  Lord,  for  ever  in  this  lasting  verse, 

That  all  posteritie  thy  honor  may  reherse.  E.  S. 

To  the  right  honourable  the  Lord  ofBuckhurst,  one  of  her  Majesties 
privie  Counsell 

In  vain  I  thinke,  right  honourable  Lord, 
By  this  rude  rime  to  memorize  thy  name, 
Whose  learned  Muse  hath  writ  her  owne  record 
In  golden  verse,  worthy  immortal  fame: 

14  The  Faerie  Queene 

Thou  much  more  fit  (were  leasure  to  the  same) 
Thy  gracious  Soverains  praises  to  compile, 
And  her  imperiall  Majestie  to  frame 
In  loftie  numbers  and  heroicke  stile. 

But,  sith  thou  maist  not  so,  give  leave  a  while 
To  baser  wit  his  power  therein  to  spend, 
Whose  grosse  defaults  thy  daintie  pen  may  file, 
And  unadvised  oversights  amend. 
But  evermore  vouchsafe  it  to  maintaine 
Against  vile  Zoilus  backbitings  vaine. 

To  the  right  honourable  Sir  Fr.  Walsingham,  knight,  principall 
Secretary  to  her  Majesty,  and  one  of  her  honourable  privy 

That  Mantuane  Poetes  incompared  spirit, 
Whose  girland  now  is  set  in  highest  place, 
Had  not  Mecaenas,  for  his  worthy  merit, 
It  first  advaunst  to  great  Augustus  grace, 

Might  long  perhaps  have  lien  in  silence  bace, 
Ne  bene  so  much  admir'd  of  later  age. 
This  lowly  Muse,  that  learns  like  steps  to  trace, 
Flies  for  like  aide  unto  your  Patronage, 

That  are  the  great  Mecaenas  of  this  age, 
As  wel  to  al  that  civil  artes  professe, 
As  those  that  are  inspir'd  with  Martial  rage, 
And  craves  protection  of  her  f eeblenesse : 

Which  if  ye  yield,  perhaps  ye  may  her  rayse 

In  bigger  tunes  to  sound  your  living  prayse,  £.  S. 

To  the  right  noble  Lord  and  most  valiaunt  Captaine,  Sir  John 
N orris ,  knight.  Lord  president  of  Mounster 

Who  ever  gave  more  honourable  prize 

To  the  sweet  Muse  then  did  the  Martiall  crew, 
That  their  brave  deeds  she  might  immortalize 

In  her  shril  tromp,  and  sound  their  praises  dew? 
Who  then  ought  more  to  favour  her  than  you, 

Moste  noble  Lord,  the  honor  of  this  age, 

And  Precedent  of  all  that  armes  ensue? 
Whose  warlike  prowesse  and  manly  courage, 

Verses  Addressed  by  the  Author         15 

Tempred  with  reason  and  advizement  sage, 
Hath  fild  sad  Belgicke  with  victorious  spoile; 
In  Fraunce  and  Ireland  left  a  famous  gage; 
And  lately  shakt  the  Lusitanian  soile. 
Sith,  then,  each  where  thou  hast  dispredd  thy  fame, 
Love  him  that  hath  eternized  your  name.  E.  S. 

To  the  right  honourable  and  most  vertuous  Lady  the  Countesse  of 


Remembraunce  of  that  most  Heroicke  spirit, 
The  hevens  pride,  the  glory  of  our  daies, 
Which  now  triumpheth,  through  immortall  merit 
Of  his  brave  vertues,  crownd  with  lasting  baies 

Of  hevenlie  blis  and  everlasting  praies ; 

Who  first  my  Muse  did  lift  out  of  the  flore, 
To  sing  his  sweet  delights  in  lowlie  laies; 
Bids  me,  most  noble  Lady,  to  adore 

His  goodly  image,  living  evermore 
In  the  divine  resemblaunce  of  your  face ; 
Which  with  your  vertues  ye  embellish  more, 
And  native  beauty  deck  with  hevenlie  grace : 

For  his,  and  for  your  owne  especial  sake, 

Vouchsafe  from  him  this  token  in  good  worth  to  take. 

E.  S. 

To  the  most  vertuous  and  beautifull  Lady,  the  Lady  Carew 

Ne  may  I,  without  blot  of  endlesse  blame, 
You,  fairest  Lady,  leave  out  of  this  place; 
But  with  remembraunce  of  your  gracious  name, 
Wherewith  that  courtly  garlond  most  ye  grace 

And  deck  the  world,  adorne  these  verses  base. 
Not  that  these  few  lines  can  in  them  comprise 
Those  glorious  ornaments  of  hevenly  grace, 
Wherewith  ye  triumph  over  feeble  eyes, 

And  in  subdued  harts  do  tyranyse; 

For  thereunto  doth  need  a  golden  quill, 
And  silver  leaves,  them  rightly  to  devise  ; 
But  to  make  humble  present  of  good  will : 

Which,  whenas  timely  meanes  it  purchase  may, 

In  ampler  wise  it  selfe  will  forth  display.  E.  S. 

1 6  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  all  the  gratious  and  beautifull  Ladies  in  the  Court 

The  Chian  Peincter,  when  he  was  requirde 
To  pourtraict  Venus  in  her  perfect  hew, 
To  make  his  worke  more  absolute,  desird 
Of  all  the  fairest  Maides  to  have  the  vew. 

Much  more  me  needs,  to  draw  the  semblant  trew 
Of  beauties  Queene,  the  worlds  sole  wonderment, 
To  sharpe  my  sence  with  sundry  beauties  vew, 
And  steale  from  each  some  part  of  ornament. 

If  all  the  world  to  seeke  I  overwent, 
A  fairer  crew  yet  no  where  could  I  see 
Then  that  brave  court  doth  to  mine  eie  present, 
That  the  worlds  pride  seemes  gathered  there  to  bee. 

Of  each  a  part  I  stole  by  cunning  thefte : 

Forgive  it  me,  faire  Dames,  sith  lesse  ye  have  not  lefte. 

E.  S. 


contayning  the  legend  of  the  knight  of  the  red 
Crosse,  or  of  Holinesse 

I.  Lo !  I,  the  man  whose  Muse  whylome  did  maske, 
As  time  her  taught,  in  lowly  Shephards  weeds, 
Am  now  enforst,  a  farre  unfitter  taske, 
For  trumpets  sterne  to  change  mine  Oaten  reeds, 
And  sing  of  Knights  and  Ladies  gentle  deeds ; 
Whose  praises  having  slept  in  silence  long, 
Me,  all  too  meane,  the  sacred  Muse  areeds 
To  blazon  broade  emongst  her  learned  throng: 
Fierce  warres  and  faithful  loves  shall  moralize  my  song. 

ii.  Helpe  then,  0  holy  virgin !  chiefe  of  nyne, 
Thy  weaker  Novice  to  perf orme  thy  will ; 
Lay  forth  out  of  thine  everlasting  scryne 
The  antique  rolles,  which  there  lye  hidden  still, 
Of  Faerie  knights,  and  fayrest  Tanaquill, 
Whom  that  most  noble  Briton  Prince  so  long 
Sought  through  the  world,  and  suffered  so  much  ill, 
That  I  must  rue  his  undeserved  wrong : 
0,  helpe  thou  my  weake  wit,  and  sharpen  my  dull  tong ! 

in.  And  thou,  most  dreaded  impe  of  highest  Jove, 
Faire  Venus  sonne,  that  with  thy  cruell  dart 
At  that  good  knight  so  cunningly  didst  rove, 
That  glorious  fire  it  kindled  in  his  hart; 
Lay  now  thy  deadly  Heben  bowe  apart, 
And  with  thy  mother  mylde  come  to  mine  ayde ; 
Come,  both ;  and  with  you  bring  triumphant  Mart, 
In  loves  and  gentle  jollities  arraid, 
After  his  murdrous  spoyles  and  bloudie  rage  allayd, 

i  8  The  Faerie  Queene 

iv.  And  with  them  eke,  0  Goddesse  heavenly  bright ! 
Mirrour  of  grace  and  Majestie  divine, 
Great  Ladie  of  the  greatest  Isle,  whose  light 
Like  Phcebus  lampe  throughout  the  world  doth  shine. 
Shed  thy  faire  beames  into  my  feeble  eyne, 
And  raise  my  thoughtes,  too  humble  and  too  vile, 
To  thinke  of  that  true  glorious  type  of  thine, 
The  argument  of  mine  afflicted  stile : 
The  which  to  heare  vouchsafe,  0  dearest  dread,  a- while* 

Book  1 — Canto  I  19 


The  Patrone  of  true  Holinesse 
?oule  Errour  doth  defeate: 
Hypocrisie,  him  to  entrappe, 
Doth  to  his  home  entreate. 

I.  A  gentle  Knight  was  pricking  on  the  plaine, 
Ycladd  in  mightie  armes  and  silver  shielde, 
Wherein  old  dints  of  deepe  woundes  did  remaine, 
The  cruell  markes  of  many'  a  bloody  fielde ; 
Yet  armes  till  that  time  did  he  never  wield. 
His  angry  steede  did  chide  his  foming  bitt, 
As  much  disdayning  to  the  curbe  to  yield: 
Full  jolly  knight  he  seemed,  and  faire  did  sitt, 
As  one  for  knightly  giusts  and  fierce  encounters  fitt. 

11.  And  on  his  brest  a  bloodie  Crosse  he  bore, 
The  deare  remembrance  of  his  dying  Lord, 
For  whose  sweete  sake  that  glorious  badge  he  wore, 
And  dead,  as  living,  ever  him  ador'd : 
Upon  his  shield  the  like  was  also  scor'd, 
For  soveraine  hope  which  in  his  helpe  he  had. 
Right  faithfull  true  he  was  in  deede  and  word, 
But  of  his  cheere  did  seeme  too  solemne  sad ; 
Yet  nothing  did  he  dread,  but  ever  was  ydrad. 

in.  Upon  a  great  adventure  he  was  bond, 
That  greatest  Gloriana  to  him  gave, 
(That  greatest  Glorious  Queene  of  Faery  lond) 
To  winne  him  worshippe,  and  her  grace  to  have, 
Which  of  all  earthly  thinges  he  most  did  crave; 
And  ever  as  he  rode  his  hart  did  earne 
To  prove  his  puissance  in  battell  brave 
Upon  his  foe,  and  his  new  force  to  learne, 
Upon  his  foe,  a  Dragon  horrible  and  stearne. 

iv.  A  lovely  Ladie  rode  him  faire  beside, 
Upon  a  lowly  Asse  more  white  then  snow, 
Yet  she  much  whiter;  but  the  same  did  hide 

20  The  Faerie  Queene 

Under  a  vele,  that  wimpled  was  full  low ; 

And  over  all  a  blacke  stole  shee  did  throw 

As  one  that  inly  mournd,  so  was  she  sad, 

And  heavie  sate  upon  her  palfrey  slow ; 

Seemed  in  heart  some  hidden  care  she  had, 

And  by  her,  in  a  line,  a  milkewhite  lambe  she  lad. 

v.  So  pure  and  innocent,  as  that  same  lambe, 
She  was  in  life  and  every  vertuous  lore ; 
And  by  descent  from  Royall  lynage  came 
Of  ancient  Kinges  and  Queenes,  that  had  of  yore 
Their  scepters  stretcht  from  East  to  Westerne  shore^ 
And  all  the  world  in  their  subjection  held; 
Till  that  infernall  feend  with  foule  uprore 
Forwasted  all  their  land,  and  them  expeld ; 
Whom  to  avenge  she  had  this  Knight  from  far  compeld. 

VI.  Behind  her  farre  away  a  Dwarf e  did  lag, 
That  lasie  seemd,  in  being  ever  last, 
Or  wearied  with  bearing  of  her  bag 
Of  needments  at  his  backe.     Thus  as  they  past. 
The  day  with  cloudes  was  suddeine  overcast, 
And  angry  Jove  an  hideous  storme  of  raine 
Did  poure  into  his  Lemans  lap  so  fast, 
That  everie  wight  to  shrowd  it  did  constrain ; 
And  this  faire  couple  eke  to  shroud  themselves  were  fain. 

vii.  Enforst  to  seeke  some  covert  nigh  at  hand, 
A  shadie  grove  not  farr  away  they  spide, 
That  promist  ayde  the  tempest  to  withstand; 
Whose  loftie  trees,  yclad  with  sommers  pride, 
Did  spred  so  broad,  that  heavens  light  did  hide, 
Not  perceable  with  power  of  any  starr: 
And  all  within  were  pathes  and  alleies  wide, 
With  footing  worne,  and  leading  inward  farr. 
Faire  harbour  that  them  seems,  so  in  they  entered  ar. 

vni.  And  foorth  they  passe,  with  pleasure  forward  led, 
Joying  to  heare  the  birdes  sweete  harmonv, 
Which,  therein  shrouded  from  the  tempest  dred, 
Seemd  in  their  song  to  scorne  the  cruell  sky. 
Much  can  they  praise  the  trees  so  straight  and  hy. 
The  sayling  Pine;  the  Cedar  proud  and  tall; 

Book  I — Canto  I  21 

The  vine-propp  Elme;  the  Poplar  never  dry; 

The  builder  Oake,  sde  king  of  forrests  all; 

The  Aspine  good  for  staves ;  the  Cypresse  funerall ; 

ix.  The  Laurell,  meed  of  mightie  Conquerours 
And  Poets  sage;  the  Firre  that  weepeth  still: 
The  Willow,  worne  of  forlorne  Paramours ; 
The  Eugh,  obedient  to  the  benders  will; 
The  Birch  for  shaftes ;  the  Sallow  for  the  mill ; 
The  Mirrhe  sweete-bleeding  in  the  bitter  wound; 
The  warlike  Beech ;  the  Ash  for  nothing  ill ; 
The  fruitful!  Olive;  and  the  Platane  round  ; 
The  carver  Holme ;  the  Maple  seeldom  inward  sound. 

x.  Led  with  delight,  they  thus  beguile  the  way, 
Untill  the  blustring  storme  is  overblowne ; 
When,  weening  to  returne  whence  they  did  stray, 
They  cannot  finde  that  path,  which  first  was  showne, 
But  wander  too  and  fro  in  waies  unknowne, 
Furthest  from  end  then,  when  they  neerest  weene, 
That  makes  them  doubt  their  wits  be  not  their  owne: 
So  many  pathes,  so  many  turnings  seene, 
That  which  of  them  to  take  in  diverse  doubt  they  been. 

xi.  At  last  resolving  forward  still  to  fare, 
Till  that  some  end  they  finde,  or  in  or  out, 
That  path  they  take  that  beaten  seemd  most  bare, 
And  like  to  lead  the  labyrinth  about; 
Which  when  by  tract  they  hunted  had  throughout, 
At  length  it  brought  them  to  a  hollowe  cave 
Amid  the  thickest  woods.     The  Champion  stout 
Eftsoones  dismounted  from  his  courser  brave, 
And  to  the  Dwarfe  a  while  his  needlesse  spere  he  gave. 

xii.  "  Be  well  aware,"  quoth  then  that  Ladie  milde, 
"  Least  suddaine  mischiefe  ye  too  rash  provoke: 
The  danger  hid,  the  place  unknowne  and  wilde, 
Breedes  dreadfull  doubts.     Oft  fire  is  without  smoke, 
And  perill  without  show:  therefore  your  stroke, 
Sir  Knight,  with-hold,  till  further  tryall  made." 
"  Ah  Ladie,"  (sayd  he)  "  shame  were  to  revoke 
The  forward  footing  for  an  hidden  shade : 
Vertue  gives  her  selfe  light  through  darknesse  for  to  wade." 

22  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  "  Yea  but  "  (quoth  she)  "  the  perill  of  this  place 
I  better  wot  then  you :  though  nowe  too  late 
To  wish  you  backe  returne  with  foule  disgrace, 
Yet  wisedome  warnes,  whilest  foot  is  in  the  gate, 
To  stay  the  steppe,  ere  forced  to  retrate. 
This  is  the  wandring  wood,  this  Err  ours  den, 
A  monster  vile,  whom  God  and  man  does  hate: 
Therefore  I  read  beware."     "  Fly,  fly !  "  (quoth  then 
The  fearefull  Dwarf e)  "  this  is  no  place  for  living  men." 

xiv.  But,  full  of  fire  and  greedy  hardiment, 

The  youthfull  Knight  could  not  for  aught  be  staide; 

But  forth  unto  the  darksom  hole  he  went, 

And  looked  in :  his  glistring  armor  made 

A  litle  glooming  light,  much  like  a  shade; 

By  which  he  saw  the  ugly  monster  plaine, 

Halfe  like  a  serpent  horribly  displaide, 

But  th'  other  halfe  did  womans  shape  retaine, 

Most  lothsom,  filthie,  foule,  and  full  of  vile  disdaine. 

xv.  And,  as  she  lay  upon  the  durtie  ground, 
Her  huge  long  taile  her  den  all  overspred, 
Yet  was  in  knots  and  many  boughtes  upwound, 
Pointed  with  mortall  sting.     Of  her  there  bred 
A  thousand  yong  ones,  which  she  dayly  fed, 
Sucking  upon  her  poisnous  dugs ;  each  one 
Of  sundrie  shapes,  yet  all  ill-favored : 
Soone  as  that  uncouth  light  upon  them  shone, 
Into  her  mouth  they  crept,  and  suddain  all  were  gone. 

xvi.  Their  dam  upstart  out  of  her  den  efTraide, 
And  rushed  forth,  hurling  her  hideous  taile 
About  her  cursed  head ;  whose  folds  displaid 
Were  stretcht  now  forth  at  length  without  entraile. 
She  lookt  about,  and  seeing  one  in  mayle, 
Armed  to  point,  sought  backe  to  turne  againe; 
For  light  she  hated  as  the  deadly  bale, 
Ay  wont  in  desert  darknes  to  remaine, 
Where  plain  none  might  her  see,  nor  she  see  any  plaine. 

xvii.  Which  when  the  valiant  Elfe  perceiv'd,  he  lept 
As  Lyon  fierce  upon  the  flying  pray, 
And  with  his  trenchand  blade  her  boldly  kept 

Book  I — Canto  I  23 

From  turning  backe,  and  forced  her  to  stay: 

Therewith  enrag'd  she  loudly  gan  to  bray, 

And  turning  fierce  her  speckled  taile  advaunst, 

Threatning  her  angrie  sting,  him  to  dismay; 

Who,  nought  aghast,  his  mightie  hand  enhaunst: 

The  stroke  down  from  her  head  unto  her  shoulder  glaunst 

xviii.  Much  daunted  with  that  dint  her  sence  was  dazd; 
Yet  kindling  rage  her  selfe  she  gathered  round, 
And  all  attonce  her  beastly  bodie  raizd 
With  doubled  forces  high  above  the  ground : 
Tho,  wrapping  up  her  wrethed  sterne  arownd, 
Lept  fierce  upon  his  shield,  and  her  huge  traine 
All  suddenly  about  his  body  wound, 
That  hand  or  foot  to  stirr  he  strove  in  vaine. 
God  helpe  the  man  so  wrapt  in  Errours  endlesse  traine ! 

xix.  His  Lady,  sad  to  see  his  sore  constraint, 

Cride  out,  "  Now,  now,  Sir  knight,  shew  what  ye  bee; 
Add  faith  unto  your  force,  and  be  not  faint; 
Strangle  her,  els  she  sure  will  strangle  thee." 
That  when  he  heard,  in  great  perplexitie, 
His  gall  did  grate  for  griefe  and  high  disdaine; 
And,  knitting  all  his  force,  got  one  hand  free, 
Wherewith  he  grypt  her  gorge  with  so  great  paine, 
That  soone  to  loose  her  wicked  bands  did  her  constraine. 

xx.  Therewith  she  spewd  out  of  her  filthie  maw 
A  floud  of  poyson  horrible  and  blacke, 
Full  of  great  lumps  of  flesh  and  gobbets  raw, 
Which  stunck  so  vildly,  that  it  forst  him  slacke 
His  grasping  hold,  and  from  her  turne  him  backe. 
Her  vomit  full  of  bookes  and  papers  was, 
With  loathly  frogs  and  toades,  which  eyes  did  lacke, 
And  creeping  sought  way  in  the  weedy  gras : 
Her  filthie  parbreake  all  the  place  defiled  has. 

xxi.  As  when  old  father  Nilus  gins  to  swell 

With  timely  pride  above  the  Aegyptian  vale 

His  fattie  waves  doe  fertile  slime  outwell, 

And  overflow  each  plaine  and  lowly  dale : 

But,  when  his  later  spring  gins  to  avale, 

Huge  heapes  of  mudd  he  leaves,  wherein  there  breed 

24  The  Faerie  Queene 

Ten  thousand  kindes  of  creatures,  partly  male 

And  partly  f email,  of  his  fruitful  seed; 

Such  ugly  monstrous  shapes  elswher  may  no  man  reed 

xxii.  The  same  so  sore  annoyed  has  the  knight, 

That,  welnigh  choked  with  the  deadly  stinke, 

His  forces  faile,  ne  can  no  lenger  fight: 

Whose  corage  when  the  feend  perceivd  to  shrinke, 

She  poured  forth  out  of  her  hellish  sinke 

Her  fruitfull  cursed  spawne  of  serpents  small, 

Deformed  monsters,  fowle,  and  blacke  as  inke, 

Which  swarming  all  about  his  legs  did  crall, 

And  him  encombred  sore,  but  could  not  hurt  at  all. 

xxiii.  As  gentle  shepheard  in  sweete  eventide, 

When  ruddy  Phebus  gins  to  welke  in  west, 

High  on  an  hill,  his  flocke  to  vewen  wide, 

Markes  which  doe  byte  their  hasty  supper  best; 

A  cloud  of  cumbrous  gnattes  doe  him  molest, 

All  striving  to  infixe  their  feeble  stinges, 

That  from  their  noyance  he  no  where  can  rest; 

But  with  his  clownish  hands  their  tender  wings 

He  brusheth  oft,  and  oft  doth  mar  their  murmurings. 

xxiv.  Thus  ill  bestedd,  and  fearefull  more  of  shame 
Then  of  the  certeine  perill  he  stood  in, 
Halfe  furious  unto  his  foe  he  came, 
Resolvd  in  minde  all  suddenly  to  win, 
Or  soone  to  lose,  before  he  once  would  lin; 
And  stroke  at  her  with  more  then  manly  force, 
That  from  her  body,  full  of  filthie  sin, 
He  raft  her  hatef ull  heade  without  remorse : 
A  streame  of  cole-black  blood  forth  gushed  from  her  corse. 

xxv.  Her  scattered  brood,  soone  as  their  Parent  deare 
They  saw  so  rudely  falling  to  the  ground, 
Groning  full  deadly,  all  with  troublous  feare 
Gathred  themselves  about  her  body  round, 
Weening  their  wonted  entrance  to  have  found 
At  her  wide  mouth;  but  being  there  withstood, 
They  flocked  all  about  her  bleeding  wound, 
And  sucked  up  their  dying  mothers  bloud, 
Making  her  death  their  life,  and  eke  her  hurt  their  good. 

Book  I — Canto  I  25 

xxvi.  That  detestable  sight  him  much  amazde, 

To  see  th'  unkindly  Impes,  of  heaven  accurst, 
Devoure  their  dam ;  on  whom  while  so  he  gazd, 
Having  all  satisfide  their  bloudy  thurst, 
Their  bellies  swolne  he  saw  with  fulnesse  burst, 
And  bowels  gushing  forth :  well  worthy  end 
Of  such  as  drunke  her  life  the  which  them  nurst  I 
Now  needeth  him  no  lenger  labour  spend, 
His  foes  have  slaine  themselves,  with  whom  he  should 

xxvii.  His  Lady,  seeing  all  that  chaunst  from  farre, 
Approcht  in  hast  to  greet  his  victorie ; 
And  saide,  "  Faire  knight,  borne  under  happie  starre, 
Who  see  your  vanquisht  foes  before  you  lye, 
Well  worthie  be  you  of  that  Armory, 
Wherein  ye  have  great  glory  wonne  this  day, 
And  proov'd  your  strength  on  a  strong  enimie, 
Your  first  adventure :  many  such  I  pray, 
And  henceforth  ever  wish  that  like  succeed  it  may !  " 

xxviii.  Then  mounted  he  upon  his  Steede  againe, 

And  with  the  Lady  backward  sought  to  wend. 
That  path  he  kept  which  beaten  was  most  plaine, 
Ne  ever  would  to  any  byway  bend, 
But  still  did  follow  one  unto  the  end, 
The  which  at  last  out  of  the  wood  them  brought. 
So  forward  on  his  way  (with  God  to  frend) 
He  passed  forth,  and  new  adventure  sought: 
Long  way  he  traveiled  before  he  heard  of  ought. 

xxix.  At  length  they  chaunst  to  meet  upon  the  way 
An  aged  Sire,  in  long  blacke  weedes  yclad, 
His  feete  all  bare,  his  beard  all  hoarie  gray, 
And  by  his  belt  his  booke  he  hanging  had : 
Sober  he  seemde,  and  very  sagely  sad, 
And  to  the  ground  his  eyes  were  lowly  bent, 
Simple  in  shew,  and  voide  of  malice  bad; 
And  all  the  way  he  prayed  as  he  went, 
And  often  knockt  his  breast,  as  one  that  did  repent. 

xxx.  He  faire  the  knight  saluted,  louting  low, 

Who  faire  him  quited,  as  that  courteous  was ; 

26  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  after  asked  him,  if  he  did  know 

Of  straunge  adventures,  which  abroad  did  pas. 

"  Ah!  my  dear  sonne,"  (quoth  he)  "  how  should,  alas! 

Silly  old  man,  that  lives  in  hidden  cell, 

Bidding  his  beades  all  day  for  his  trespas, 

Tydings  of  warre  and  worldly  trouble  tell  ? 

With  holy  father  sits  not  with  such  thinges  to  mell. 

xxxi.  "  But  if  of  daunger,  which  hereby  doth  dwell, 
And  homebredd  evil  ye  desire  to  heare, 
Of  a  straunge  man  I  can  you  tidings  tell, 
That  wasteth  all  this  countrie,  farre  and  neare." 
"  Of  such,"  (saide  he,)  "  I  chiefly  doe  inquere, 
And  shall  thee  well  rewarde  to  shew  the  place, 
In  which  that  wicked  wight  his  dayes  doth  weare; 
For  to  all  knighthood  it  is  foule  disgrace, 
That  such  a  cursed  creature  lives  so  long  a  space." 

xxxii.  "  Far  hence  "  (quoth  he)  "  in  wastfull  wildernesse 
His  dwelling  is,  by  which  no  living  wight 
May  ever  passe,  but  thorough  great  distresse." 
11  Now,"  (saide  the  Ladie,)  "  draweth  toward  night, 
And  well  I  wote,  that  of  your  later  fight 
Ye  all  forwearied  be;  for  what  so  strong, 
But,  wanting  rest,  will  also  want  of  might? 
The  Sunne,  that  measures  heaven  all  day  long, 
At  night  doth  baite  his  steedes  the  Ocean  waves  emong. 

xxxii i.  "  Then  with  the  Sunne  take,  Sir,  your  timely  rest, 
And  with  new  day  new  worke  at  once  begin: 
Untroubled  night,  they  say,  gives  counsell  best." 
M  Right  well,  Sir  knight,  ye  have  advised  bin," 
Quoth  then  that  aged  man:   "  the  way  to  win 
is  wisely  to  advise;  now  day  is  spent: 
Therefore  with  me  ye  may  take  up  your  In 
For  this  same  night."     The  knight  was  well  content; 
So  with  that  godly  father  to  his  home  they  went. 

xxxiv.  A  litle  lowly  Hermitage  it  was, 

Downe  in  a  dale,  hard  by  a  forests  side, 
Far  from  resort  of  people  that  did  pas 
In  traveill  to  and  froe:  a  litle  wyde 
There  was  an  holy  chappell  edifyde, 

Book  I — Canto  I  27 

Wherein  the  Hermite  dewly  wont  to  say 
His  holy  thinges  each  morne  and  eventyde: 
Thereby  a  christall  streame  did  gently  play, 
Which  from  a  sacred  fountaine  welled  forth  alway. 

xxxv.  Arrived  there,  the  litle  house  they  fill, 

Ne  looke  for  entertainement  where  none  was ; 
Rest  is  their  feast,  and  all  thinges  at  their  will: 
The  noblest  mind  the  best  contentment  has. 
With  faire  discourse  the  evening  so  they  pas ; 
For  that  olde  man  of  pleasing  wordes  had  store, 
And  well  could  file  his  tongue  as  smooth  as  glas : 
He  told  of  Saintes  and  Popes,  and  evermore 
He  strowd  an  Ave-Mary  after  and  before. 

xxxvi.  The  drouping  night  thus  creepeth  on  them  fast; 
And  the  sad  humor  loading  their  eyeliddes, 
As  messenger  of  Morpheus,  on  them  cast 
Sweet  slom bring  deaw,  the  which  to  sleep  them  biddes. 
Unto  their  lodgings  then  his  guestes  he  riddes  : 
Where  when  all  drownd  in  deadly  sleepe  he  findes, 
He  to  his  studie  goes ;  and  there  amiddes 
His  magick  bookes,  and  artes  of  sundrie  kindes, 
He  seekes  out  mighty  charmes  to  trouble  sleepy  minds. 

xxxvu.  Then  choosing  out  few  words  most  horrible, 

(Let  none  them  read)  thereof  did  verses  frame; 
With  which,  and  other  spelles  like  terrible, 
He  bad  awake  blacke  Plutoes  griesly  Dame; 
And  cursed  heven;  and  spake  reprochful  shame 
Of  highest  God,  the  Lord  of  life  and  light : 
A  bold  bad  man,  that  dar'd  to  call  by  name 
Great  Gorgon,  prince  of  darkness  and  dead  night; 
At  which  Cocytus  quakes,  and  Styx  is  put  to  flight. 

xxxviii.  And  forth  he  cald  out  of  deepe  darknes  dredd 
Legions  of  Sprights,  the  which,  like  litle  flyes 
Fluttring  about  his  ever-damned  hedd, 
Awaite  whereto  their  service  he  applyes, 
To  aide  his  friendes,  or  fray  his  enimies. 
Of  those  he  chose  out  two,  the  falsest  twoo, 
And  fittest  for  to  forge  true-seeming  lyes : 
The  one  of  them  he  gave  a  message  too, 
The  other  by  him  selfe  staide,  other  worke  to  doo. 

28  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  He,  making  speedy  way  through  spersed  ayre, 

And  through  the  world  of  waters  wide  and  deepe, 

To  Morpheus  house  doth  hastily  repaire. 

Amid  the  bowels  of  the  earth  full  steepe, 

And  low,  where  dawning  day  doth  never  peepe, 

His  dwelling  is ;  there  Tethys  his  wet  bed 

Doth  ever  wash,  and  Cynthia  still  doth  steepe 

In  silver  deaw  his  ever-drouping  hed, 

Whiles  sad  Night  over  him  her  mantle  black  doth  spred. 

xl.  Whose  double  gates  he  findeth  locked  fast, 
The  one  faire  fram'd  of  burnisht  Yvory, 
The  other  all  with  silver  overcast; 
And  wakeful  dogges  before  them  farre  doe  lye, 
Watching  to  banish  Care  their  enimy, 
Who  oft  is  wont  to  trouble  gentle  Sleepe. 
By  them  the  Sprite  doth  passe  in  quietly, 
And  unto  Morpheus  comes,  whom  drowned  deepe 
In  drowsie  fit  he  findes :  of  nothing  he  takes  keepe. 

xli.  And  more  to  lulle  him  in  his  slumber  soft, 

A  trickling  streame  from  high  rock  tumbling  downe, 
And  ever-drizling  raine  upon  the  loft, 
Mixt  with  a  murmuring  winde,  much  like  the  sowne 
Of  swarming  Bees,  did  cast  him  in  a  swowne. 
No  other  noyse,  nor  peoples  troublous  cryes, 
As  still  are  wont  t'  annoy  the  walled  towne, 
Might  there  be  heard;  but  carelesse  Quiet  lyes 
Wrapt  in  eternall  silence  farre  from  enimyes. 

xlii.  The  Messenger  approching  to  him  spake; 

But  his  waste  wordes  retournd  to  him  in  vaine: 

So  sound  he  slept,  that  nought  mought  him  awake. 

Then  rudely  he  him  thrust,  and  pusht  with  paine, 

Whereat  he  gan  to  stretch;  but  he  againe 

Shooke  him  so  hard,  that  forced  him  to  speake. 

As  one  then  in  a  dreame,  whose  dryer  braine 

Is  tost  with  troubled  sights  and  fancies  weake, 

He  mumbled  soft,  but  would  not  all  his  silence  breake. 

xliii.  The  Sprite  then  gan  more  boldly  him  to  wake, 
And  threatned  unto  him  the  dreaded  name 
Of  Hecate :  whereat  he  gan  to  quake, 

Book  I — Canto  I  29 

And,  lifting  up  his  lompish  head,  with  blame 

Halfe  angrie  asked  him,  for  what  he  came. 

"  Hether  "  (quoth  he,)  "  me  Archimago  sent, 

He  that  the  stubborne  Sprites  can  wisely  tame, 

He  bids  thee  to  him  send  for  his  intent 

A  fit  false  dreame,  that  can  delude  the  sleepers  sent. 

xliv.  The  God  obayde;  and,  calling  forth  straight  way 
A  diverse  Dreame  out  of  his  prison  darke, 
Delivered  it  to  him,  and  downe  did  lay 
His  heavie  head,  devoide  of  careful  carke; 
Whose  sences  all  were  straight  benumbd  and  starke. 
He,  backe  returning  by  the  Yvorie  dore, 
Remounted  up  as  light  as  chearefull  Larke; 
And  on  his  litle  winges  the  dreame  he  bore 
In  hast  unto  his  Lord,  where  he  him  left  afore. 

xlv.  Who  all  this  while,  with  charmes  and  hidden  artes, 
Had  made  a  Lady  of  that  other  Spright, 
And  fram'd  of  liquid  ayre  her  tender  partes, 
So  lively  and  so  like  in  all  mens  sight, 
That  weaker  sence  it  could  have  ravisht  quight: 
The  maker  selfe,  for  all  his  wondrous  witt, 
Was  nigh  beguiled  with  so  goodly  sight. 
Her  all  in  white  he  clad,  and  over  it 
Cast  a  black  stole,  most  like  to  seeme  for  Una  fit. 

xlvi.  Now,  when  that  ydle  dreame  was  to  him  brought, 
Unto  that  Elfin  knight  he  bad  him  fly, 
Where  he  slept  soundly  void  of  evil  thought, 
And  with  false  shewes  abuse  his  fantasy, 
In  sort  as  he  him  schooled  privily: 
And  that  new  creature,  borne  without  her  dew, 
Full  of  the  makers  guyle,  with  usage  sly 
He  taught  to  imitate  that  Lady  trew, 
Whose  semblance  she  did  carrie  under  feigned  hew , 

xlvii.  Thus,  well  instructed,  to  their  worke  they  haste; 
And,  comming  where  the  knight  in  slomber  lay, 
The  one  upon  his  hardie  head  him  plaste, 
And  made  him  dreame  of  loves  and  lustfull  play, 
That  night  his  manly  hart  did  melt  away, 
Bathed  in  wanton  blis  and  wicked  joy. 

30  The  Faerie  Queene 

Then  seemed  him  his  Lady  by  him  lay, 

And  to  him  playnd,  how  that  false  winged  boy 

Her  chaste  hart  had  subdewd  to  learne  Dame  Pleasures  toy. 

xlviii.  And  she  her  selfe,  of  beautie  soveraigne  Queene, 
Fayre  Venus,  seemde  unto  his  bed  to  bring 
Her,  whom  he,  waking,  evermore  did  weene 
To  bee  the  chastest  flowre  that  aye  did  spring 
On  earthly  braunch,  the  daughter  of  a  king, 
Now  a  loose  Leman  to  vile  service  bound: 
And  eke  the  Graces  seemed  all  to  sing, 
Hymen  I'd  Hymen  I  dauncing  all  around ; 
Whylst  freshest  Flora  her  with  Yvie  girlond  crownd. 

xlix.  In  this  great  passion  of  unwonted  lust, 
Or  wonted  feare  of  doing  ought  amis, 
He  starteth  up,  as  seeming  to  mistrust 
Some  secret  ill,  or  hidden  foe  of  his. 
Lo !  there  before  his  face  his  Ladie  is, 
Under  blacke  stole  hyding  her  bayted  hooke ; 
And  as  halfe  blushing  offred  him  to  kis, 
With  gentle  blandishment  and  lovely  looke, 
Most  like  that  virgin  true  which  for  her  knight  him  took. 

l.  All  cleane  dismayd  to  see  so  uncouth  sight, 
And  half  enraged  at  her  shameless  guise, 
He  thought  have  slaine  her  in  his  fierce  despight; 
But  hastie  heat  tempring  with  sufferance  wise, 
He  stayde  his  hand;  and  gan  himself e  advise 
To  prove  his  sense,  and  tempt  her  faigned  truth. 
Wringing  her  hands,  in  wemens  pitteous  wise, 
Tho  can  she  weepe,  to  stirre  up  gentle  ruth 
Both  for  her  noble  blood,  and  for  her  tender  youth. 

li.  And  sayd,  "Ah  Sir,  my  liege  Lord,  and  my  love, 
Shall  I  accuse  the  hidden  cruell  fate, 
And  mightie  causes  wrought  in  heaven  above, 
Or  the  blind  God  that  doth  me  thus  amate, 
For  hoped  love  to  winne  me  certaine  hate  ? 
Yet  thus  perforce  he  bids  me  do,  or  die. 
Die  is  my  dew;  yet  rew  my  wretched  state, 
You,  whom  my  hard  avenging  destinie 
Hath  made  judge  of  my  life  or  death  indifferentlv. 

Book  I — Canto  I  3  1 

LIZ.  "  Your  owne  deare  sake  forst  me  at  first  to  leave 
My  fathers  kingdom  " — There  she  stopt  with  teares; 
Her  swollen  hart  her  speech  seemd  to  bereave, 
And  then  againe  begonne;  "  My  weaker  yeares, 
Captiv'd  to  fortune  and  frayle  worldly  feares, 
Fly  to  your  fayth  for  succour  and  sure  ayde: 
Let  me  not  die  in  languor  and  long  teares." 
"  Why,  Dame,"  (quoth  he,)  "  what  hath  ye  thus  dismayd  ? 
What  frayes  ye,  that  were  wont  to  comfort  me  affray d  ?  " 

Lin.  "  Love  of  your  selfe,"  she  saide,  "  and  deare  constraint, 
Lets  me  not  sleepe,  but  waste  the  wearie  night 
In  secret  anguish  and  unpittied  plaint, 
Whiles  you  in  carelesse  sleepe  are  drowned  quight." 
Her  doubtfull  words  made  that  redoubted  knight 
Suspect  her  truth:  yet  since  no'  untruth  he  knew, 
Her  fawning  love  with  foule  disdainefull  spight 
He  would  not  shend;  but  said,  "  Deare  dame,  I  rew, 
That  for  my  sake  unknowne  such  griefe  unto  you  grew. 

uv.  M  Assure  your  selfe,  it  fell  not  all  to  ground; 
For  all  so  deare  as  life  is  to  my  hart, 
I  deeme  your  love,  and  hold  me  to  you  bound: 
Ne  let  vaine  feares  procure  your  needlesse  smart, 
Where  cause  is  none;  but  to  your  rest  depart." 
Not  all  content,  yet  seemd  she  to  appease 
Her  mournefull  plaintes,  beguiled  of  her  art, 
And  fed  with  words  that  could  not  chose  but  please: 
So,  slyding  softly  forth,  she  turnd  as  to  her  ease. 

lv.  Long  after  lay  he  musing  at  her  mood, 

Much  griev'd  to  thinke  that  gentle  Dame  so  light, 

For  whose  defence  he  was  to  shed  his  blood. 

At  last,  dull  wearines  of  former  fight 

Having  yrockt  asleepe  his  irkesome  spright, 

That  troublous  dreame  gan  freshly  tosse  his  braine 

WTith  bowres,  and  beds,  and  ladies  deare  delight: 

But,  when  he  saw  his  labour  all  was  vaine, 

With  that  misformed  spright  he  backe  returnd  againe. 

32  The  Faerie  Queene 


The  guilefull  great  Enchannter  parts 
The  Redcrosse  Knight  from  Truth : 
Into  whose  stead  faire  falshood  steps, 
And  workes  him  woefull  ruth. 

I.  By  this  the  Northerne  wagoner  had  set 
His  sevenfold  teme  behind  the  stedfast  starre 
That  was  in  Ocean  waves  yet  never  wet, 
But  firme  is  fixt,  and  sendeth  light  from  farre 
To  al  that  in  the  wide  deepe  wandring  arre ; 
And  chearefull  Chaunticlere  with  his  note  shrill 
Had  warned  once,  that  Phcebus  fiery  carre 
In  hast  was  climbing  up  the  Easterne  hill, 
Full  envious  that  night  so  long  his  roome  did  fill : 

n.  When  those  accursed  messengers  of  hell, 

That  feigning  dreame,  and  that  faire-forged  Spright, 
Came  to  their  wicked  maister,  and  gan  tel 
Their  bootelesse  paines,  and  ill  succeeding  night: 
Who,  all  in  rage  to  see  his  skilfull  might 
Deluded  so,  gan  threaten  hellish  paine, 
And  sad  Proserpines  wrath,  them  to  affright: 
But,  when  he  saw  his  threatning  was  but  vaine, 
He  cast  about,  and  searcht  his  baleful  bokes  againe. 

in.  Eftsoones  he  tooke  that  miscreated  faire, 

And  that  false  other  Spright,  on  whom  he  spred 
A  seeming  body  of  the  subtile  aire, 
Like  a  young  Squire,  in  loves  and  lusty-hed 
His  wanton  daies  that  ever  loosely  led, 
Without  regard  of  armes  and  dreaded  fight: 
Those  twoo  he  tooke,  and  in  a  secrete  bed, 
Covered  with  darkenes  and  misdeeming  night, 
Them  both  together  laid  to  joy  in  vaine  delight. 

iv.  Forthwith  he  runnes  with  feigned  faithfull  hast 
Unto  his  guest,  who,  after  troublous  sights 
And  dreames,  gan  now  to  take  more  sound  repast; 

Book  I — Canto  II  33 

Whom  suddenly  he  wakes  with  fearful  frights, 
As  one  aghast  with  feends  or  damned  sprights, 
And  to  him  cals ;  "  Rise,  rise  1  unhappy  Swaine, 
That  here  wex  old  in  sleepe,  whiles  wicked  wights 
Have  knit  themselves  in  Venus  shameful  chaine: 
Come,  see  where  your  false  Lady  doth  her  honor  staine." 

v.  All  in  amaze  he  suddenly  up  start 

With  sword  in  hand,  and  with  the  old  man  went; 
Who  soone  him  brought  into  a  secret  part, 
Where  that  false  couple  were  full  closely  ment 
In  wanton  lust  and  leud  embracement: 
Which  when  he  saw,  he  burnt  with  gealous  fire; 
The  eie  of  reason  was  with  rage  yblent, 
And  would  have  slaine  them  in  his  furious  ire, 
But  hardly  was  restreined  of  that  aged  sire. 

vi.  Retourning  to  his  bed  in  torment  great, 
And  bitter  anguish  of  his  guilty  sight, 
He  could  not  rest;  but  did  his  stout  heart  eat, 
And  wast  his  inward  gall  with  deepe  despight, 
Yrkesome  of  life,  and  too  long  lingring  night. 
At  last  faire  Hesperus  in  highest  skie 
Had  spent  his  lampe,  and  brought  forth  dawning  light; 
Then  up  he  rose,  and  clad  him  hastily: 
The  dwarf e  him  brought  his  steed;  so  both  away  do  fly. 

vii.  Now  when  the  rosy  fingred  Morning  faire, 
Weary  of  aged  Tithones  saffron  bed, 
Had  spred  her  purple  robe  through  deawy  aire, 
And  the  high  hils  Titan  discovered, 
The  royall  virgin  shooke  off  drousy-hed ; 
And,  rising  forth  out  of  her  baser  bowre, 
Lookt  for  her  knight,  who  far  away  was  fled, 
And  for  her  dwarf  e,  that  wont  to  wait  each  howre: 
Then  gan  she  wail  and  weepe  to  see  that  woeful  stowre. 

viii.  And  after  him  she  rode,  with  so  much  speede 
As  her  slowe  beast  could  make ;  but  all  in  vaine, 
For  him  so  far  had  borne  his  light-foot  steede, 
Pricked  with  wrath  and  fiery,  fierce  disdaine, 
That  him  to  follow  was  but  f ruitlesse  paine : 
Yet  she  her  weary  limbes  would  never  rest; 

24  The  Faerie  Queene 

But  every  hil  and  dale,  each  wood  and  plaine, 
Did  search,  sore  grieved  in  her  gentle  brest, 
He  so  ungently  left  her,  whome  she  loved  best. 

ix.  But  subtill  Archimago,  when  his  guests 
He  saw  divided  into  double  parts, 
And  Una  wandring  in  woods  and  forrests, 
Th'  end  of  his  drift,  he  praisd  his  divelish  arts, 
That  had  such  might  over  true  meaning  harts : 
Yet  rests  not  so,  but  other  meanes  doth  make, 
How  he  may  worke  unto  her  further  smarts ; 
For  her  he  hated  as  the  hissing  snake, 
And  in  her  many  troubles  did  most  pleasure  take. 

x.  He  then  devisde  himselfe  how  to  disguise ; 
For  by  his  mighty  science  he  could  take 
As  many  formes  and  shapes  in  seeming  wise, 
As  ever  Proteus  to  himselfe  could  make : 
Sometime  a  fowle,  sometime  a  fish  in  lake, 
Now  like  a  f oxe,  now  like  a  dragon  fell ; 
That  of  himselfe  he  ofte  for  feare  would  quake, 
And  oft  would  flie  away.     0 !  who  can  tell 
The  hidden  powre  of  herbes,  and  might  of  Magick  spel  ? 

xi.  But  now  seemde  best  the  person  to  put  on 
Of  that  good  knight,  his  late  beguiled  guest: 
In  mighty  armes  he  was  yclad  anon, 
And  silver  shield;  upon  his  coward  brest 
A  bloody  crosse,  and  on  his  craven  crest 
A  bounch  of  heares  discolourd  diversly. 
Full  jolly  knight  he  seemde,  and  wel  addrest; 
And  when  he  sate  upon  his  courser  free, 
Saint  George  himselfe  ye  would  have  deemed  him  to  be. 

xii.  But  he,  the  knight  whose  semblaunt  he  did  beare, 
The  true  Saint  George,  was  wandred  far  away, 
Still  flying  from  his  thoughts  and  gealous  feare: 
Will  was  his  guide,  and  griefe  led  him  astray. 
At  last  him  chaunst  to  meete  upon  the  way 
A  faithlesse  Sarazin,  all  armde  to  point, 
In  whose  great  shield  was  writ  with  letters  gay 
Sans  joy  ;  full  large  of  limbe  and  every  joint 
lie  was,  and  cared  not  for  God  or  man  a  point. 

Book  I — Canto  II  35 

xiii.  Hce  had  a  faire  companion  of  his  way, 
A  goodly  Lady  clad  in  scarlot  red, 
Purfled  with  gold  and  pearle  of  rich  assay ; 
And  like  a  Persian  mitre  on  her  hed 
Shee  wore,  with  crowns  and  owches  garnished, 
The  which  her  lavish  lovers  to  her  gave. 
Her  wanton  palfrey  all  was  overspred 
With  tinsell  trappings,  woven  like  a  wave, 
Whose  bridle  rung  with  golden  bels  and  bosses  brave. 

xiv.  With  faire  disport,  and  courting  dalliaunce, 
She  intertainde  her  lover  all  the  way ; 
But,  when  she  saw  the  knight  his  speare  advaunce, 
She  soone  left  off  her  mirth  and  wanton  play, 
And  bad  her  knight  addresse  him  to  the  fray, 
His  foe  was  nigh  at  hand.     He,  prickte  with  pride 
And  hope  to  winne  his  Ladies  hearte  that  day, 
Forth  spurred  fast:  adowne  his  coursers  side 
The  red  bloud  trickling  staind  the  way,  as  he  did  ride. 

xv.  The  knight  of  the  Redcrosse,  when  him  he  spide 
Spurring  so  hote  with  rage  dispiteous, 
Gan  fairely  couch  his  speare,  and  towards  ride. 
Soone  meete  they  both,  both  fell  and  furious, 
That,  daunted  with  theyr  forces  hideous, 
Their  steeds  doe  stagger,  and  amazed  stand; 
And  eke  themselves,  too  rudely  rigorous, 
Astonied  with  the  stroke  of  their  owne  hand, 
Doe  backe  rebutte,  and  ech  to  other  yealdeth  land. 

xvi.  As  when  two  rams,  stird  with  ambitious  pride, 
Fight  for  the  rule  of  the  rich  fleeced  flocke, 
Their  horned  fronts  so  fierce  on  either  side 
Doe  meete,  that,  with  the  terror  of  the  shocke, 
Astonied,  both  stand  sencelesse  as  a  blocke, 
Forgetfull  of  the  hanging  victory : 
So  stood  these  twaine,  unmoved  as  a  rocke, 
Both  staring  fierce,  and  holding  idely 
The  broken  reliques  of  their  former  cruelty. 

xvii.  The  Sarazin,  sore  daunted  with  the  buffe, 

Snatched  his  sword,  and  fiercely  to  him  flies; 
Who  well  it  wards,  and  quyteth  cuff  with  cuff: 

3  6  The  Faerie  Queene 

Each  others  equall  puissaunce  envies, 

And  through  their  iron  sides  with  cruell  spies 

Does  seeke  to  perce;  repining  courage  yields 

No  foote  to  foe :  the  flashing  fier  flies, 

As  from  a  forge,  out  of  their  burning  shields ; 

And  streams  of  purple  bloud  new  die  the  verdant  fields. 

xviii.  "  Curse  on  that  Cross,"  (quoth  then  the  Sarazin,) 
"  That  keepes  thy  body  from  the  bitter  fitt ! 
Dead  long  ygoe,  I  wote,  thou  haddest  bin, 
Had  not  that  charme  from  thee  forwarned  itt: 
But  yet  I  warne  thee  now  assured  sitt, 
And  hide  thy  head."    Therewith  upon  his  crest 
With  rigor  so  outrageous  he  smitt, 
That  a  large  share  it  hewd  out  of  the  rest, 
And  glauncing  downe  his  shield  from  blame  him  fairly  blest. 

xix.  Who,  thereat  wondrous  wroth,  the  sleeping  spark 
Of  native  vertue  gan  eftsoones  revive; 
And  at  his  haughty  helmet  making  mark, 
So  hugely  stroke,  that  it  the  Steele  did  rive, 
And  cleft  his  head.     He,  tumbling  downe  alive, 
With  bloudy  mouth  his  mother  earth  did  kis, 
Greeting  his  grave :  his  grudging  ghost  did  strive 
With  the  fraile  flesh;  at  last  it  flitted  is, 
Whither  the  soules  doe  fly  of  men  that  live  amis. 

xx.  The  Lady,  when  she  saw  her  champion  fall 
Like  the  old  ruines  of  a  broken  towre, 
Staid  not  to  waile  his  woefull  funerall, 
But  from  him  fled  away  with  all  her  powre; 
Who  after  her  as  hastily  gan  scowre, 
Bidding  the  dwarfe  with  him  to  bring  away 
The  Sarazins  shield,  signe  of  the  conqueroure. 
Her  soone  he  overtooke,  and  bad  to  stay ; 
For  present  cause  was  none  of  dread  her  to  dismay. 

xxi.  Shee  turning  backe,  with  ruefull  countenaunce, 
Cride,  "  Mercy,  mercy,  Sir,  vouchsafe  to  show 
On  silly  Dame,  subject  to  hard  mischaunce, 
And  to  your  mighty  wil !  "     Her  humblesse  low, 
In  so  ritch  weedes,  and  seeming  glorious  show, 
Did  much  emmove  his  stout  heroicke  heart; 

Book  I — Canto  II  37 

And  said,  "  Deare  dame,  your  sudden  overthrow 

Much  rueth  me;  but  now  put  feare  apart, 

And  tel  both  who  ye  be,  and  who  that  tooke  your  part." 

xxii.  Melting  in  teares,  then  gan  shee  thus  lament, 
"  The  wretched  woman,  whom  unhappy  howre 
Hath  now  made  thrall  to  your  commandement, 
Before  that  angry  heavens  list  to  lowre, 
And  fortune  false  betraide  me  to  thy  powre, 
Was  (0 !  what  now  availeth  that  I  was  ?) 
Borne  the  sole  daughter  of  an  Emperour, 
He  that  the  wide  West  under  his  rule  has, 
And  high  hath  set  his  throne  where  Tiberis  doth  pas. 

xxiii.  "  He,  in  the  first  flowre  of  my  freshest  age, 
Betrothed  me  unto  the  onley  haire 
Of  a  most  mighty  king,  most  rich  and  sage: 
Was  never  Prince  so  faithfull  and  so  faire, 
Was  never  Prince  so  meeke  and  debonaire; 
But  ere  my  hoped  day  of  spousall  shone, 
My  dearest  Lord  fell  from  high  honors  staire 
Into  the  hands  of  hys  accursed  fone, 
And  cruelly  was  slaine;  that  shall  I  ever  mone. 

xxiv.  "  His  blessed  body,  spoild  of  lively  breath, 
Was  afterward,  I  know  not  how,  convaid, 
And  fro  me  hid :  of  whose  most  innocent  death 
When  tidings  came  to  mee,  unhappy  maid, 
0,  how  great  sorrow  my  sad  soule  assaid ! 
Then  forth  I  went  his  woefull  corse  to  find, 
And  many  yeares  throughout  the  world  I  straid, 
A  virgin  widow,  whose  deepe  wounded  mind 
With  love  long  time  did  languish,  as  the  striken  hind. 

xx v.  "  At  last  it  chaunced  this  proud  Sarazin 

To  meete  me  wandring;  who  perforce  me  led 

With  him  away,  but  yet  could  never  win 

The  Fort,  that  Ladies  hold  in  soveraigne  dread. 

There  lies  he  now  with  foule  dishonour  dead, 

Who,  whiles  he  livde,  was  called  proud  Sans  foy, 

The  eldest  of  three  brethren;  all  three  bred 

Of  one  bad  sire,  whose  youngest  is  Sans  joy; 

And  twixt  them  both  was  born  the  bloudy  bold  Sans  loy. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  In  this  sad  plight,  friendlesse,  unfortunate, 
Now  miserable  I,  Fidessa,  dwell, 
Craving  of  you,  in  pitty  of  my  state, 
To  doe  none  ill,  if  please  ye  not  doe  well.', 
He  in  great  passion  al  this  while  did  dwell, 
More  busying  his  quicke  eies  her  face  to  view, 
Then  his  dull  eares  to  heare  what  shee  did  tell; 
And  said,  "  faire  lady,  hart  of  flint  would  rew 
The  undeserved  woes  and  sorrowes,  which  ye  shew. 

xxvii.  "  Henceforth  in  safe  assuraunce  may  ye  rest, 
Having  both  found  a  new  friend  you  to  aid, 
And  lost  an  old  foe  that  did  you  molest; 
Better  new  friend  then  an  old  foe  is  said." 
With  chaunge  of  chear  the  seeming  simple  maid 
Let  fal  her  eien,  as  shamefast,  to  the  earth, 
And  yeelding  soft,  in  that  she  nought  gainsaid, 
So  forth  they  rode,  he  feining  seemely  merth, 
And  shee  coy  lookes :  so  dainty,  they  say,  maketh  derth. 

xxviii.  Long  time  they  thus  together  traveiled; 
Til,  weary  of  their  way,  they  came  at  last 
Where  grew  two  goodly  trees,  that  faire  did  spred 
Their  armes  abroad,  with  gray  mosse  overcast; 
And  their  greene  leaves,  trembling  with  every  blast, 
Made  a  calme  shadowe  far  in  compasse  round: 
The  fearefull  shepheard,  often  there  aghast, 
Under  them  never  sat,  ne  wont  there  sound 
His  mery  oaten  pipe,  but  shund  th'  unlucky  ground. 

xxix.  But  this  good  knight,  soone  as  he  them  can  spie, 
For  the  coole  shade  him  thither  hastly  got: 
For  golden  Phoebus,  now  ymounted  hie, 
From  fiery  wheeles  of  his  faire  chariot 
Hurled  his  beame  so  scorching  cruell  hot, 
That  living  creature  mote  it  not  abide; 
And  his  new  Lady  it  endured  not. 
There  they  alight,  in  hope  themselves  to  hide 
From  the  fierce  heat,  and  rest  their  weary  limbs  a  tide. 

xxx.  Faire  seemely  pleasaunce  each  to  other  makes, 
With  goodly  purposes,  there  as  they  sit; 
And  in  his  falsed  fancy  he  her  takes 

Book  I — Canto  II 


To  be  the  fairest  wight  that  lived  yit; 

Which  to  expresse  he  bends  his  gentle  wit: 

And,  thinking  of  those  braunches  greene  to  frame 

A  girlond  for  her  dainty  forehead  fit, 

He  pluckt  a  bough;  out  of  whose  rifte  there  came 

Smal  drops  of  gory  bloud,  that  trickled  down  the  same 

xxxi.  Therewith  a  piteous  yelling  voice  was  heard, 
Crying,  "  0!  spare  with  guilty  hands  to  teare 
My  tender  sides  in  this  rough  rynd  embard; 
But  fly,  ah !  fly  far  hence  away,  for  feare 
Least  to  you  hap  that  happened  to  me  heare, 
And  to  this  wretched  Lady,  my  deare  love; 
0,  too  deare  love,  love  bought  with  death  too  deare !  " 
Astond  he  stood,  and  up  his  heare  did  hove; 
And  with  that  suddein  horror  could  no  member  move. 

xxxii.  At  last  whenas  the  dreadfull  passion 

Was  overpast,  and  manhood  well  awake, 
Yet  musing  at  the  straunge  occasion, 
And  doubting  much  his  sence,  he  thus  bespake: 
"  What  voice  of  damned  Ghost  from  Limbo  lake, 
Or  guilefull  spright  wandring  in  empty  aire, 
Both  which  fraile  men  doe  oftentimes  mistake, 
Sends  to  my  doubtful  eares  these  speaches  rare, 
And  ruefull  plaints,  me  bidding  guiltlesse   blood  to 
spare?  " 

xxxiii.  Then,  groning  deep;  "  Nor  damned  Ghost,"  (quoth  he,) 
"  Nor  guileful  sprite  to  thee  these  words  doth  speake; 
But  once  a  man,  Fradubio,  now  a  tree; 
Wretched  man,  wretched  tree !  whose  nature  weake 
A  cruell  witch,  her  cursed  will  to  wreake, 
Hath  thus  transformd,  and  plast  in  open  plaines, 
Where  Boreas  doth  blow  full  bitter  bleake, 
And  scorching  Sunne  does  dry  my  secret  vaines ; 
For  though  a  tree  I  seme,  yet  cold  and  heat  me  paines." 

xxxiv.  "  Say  on,  Fradubio,  then,  or  man  or  tree." 

Quoth  then  the  Knight;  "  by  whose  mischievous  arts 

Art  thou  misshaped  thus,  as  now  I  see? 

He  oft  finds  med'cine  who  his  griefe  imparts, 

But  double  griefs  afflict  concealing  harts. 

4.0  The  Faerie  Queene 

As  raging  flames  who  striveth  to  suppresse." 

"  The  author  then,"  (said  he)  "  of  all  my  smarts, 

Is  one  Duessa,  a  false  sorceresse, 

That  many  errant  knights  hathbroghtto  wretchednesse. 

xxxv.  "  In  prime  of  youthly  yeares,  when  corage  hott 
The  fire  of  love,  and  joy  of  chevalree, 
First  kindled  in  my  brest,  it  was  my  lott 
To  love  this  gentle  Lady,  whome  ye  see 
Now  not  a  Lady,  but  a  seeming  tree ; 
With  whome,  as  once  I  rode  accompanyde, 
Me  chaunced  of  a  knight  encountred  bee, 
That  had  a  like  faire  Lady  by  his  syde; 
Lyke  a  faire  Lady,  but  did  fowle  Duessa  hyde* 

xxxvi.  "  Whose  forged  beauty  he  did  take  in  hand 
All  other  Dames  to  have  exceeded  farre : 
I  in  defence  of  mine  did  likewise  stand, 
Mine,  that  did  then  shine  as  the  Morning  starre.: 
So  both  to  batteill  fierce  arraunged  arre, 
In  which  his  harder  fortune  was  to  fall 
Under  my  speare :  such  is  the  dye  of  warre. 
His  Lady,  left  as  a  prise  martiall, 
Did  yield  her  comely  person  to  be  at  my  call* 

xxxvu.  "  So  doubly  lov'd  of  ladies,  unlike  faire, 

Th'  one  seeming  such,  the  other  such  indeede, 

One  day  in  doubt  I  cast  for  to  compare 

Whether  in  beauties  glorie  did  exceede: 

A  Rosy  girlond  was  the  victors  meede. 

Both  seemde  to  win,  and  both  seemed  won  to  bee, 

So  hard  the  discord  was  to  be  agreede. 

Fraelissa  was  as  faire  as  faire  mote  bee, 

And  ever  false  Duessa  seemde  as  faire  as  shed 

xxxviii.  "  The  wicked  witch,  now  seeing  all  this  while 
The  doubtfull  ballaunce  equally  to  sway, 
What  not  by  right  she  cast  to  win  by  guile ; 
And  by  her  hellish  science  raisd  streight  way 
A  foggy  mist  that  overcast  the  day, 
And  a  dull  blast,  that  breathing  on  her  face 
Dimmed  her  former  beauties  shining  ray, 
And  with  foule  ugly  forme  did  her  disgrace : 
Then  was  she  fayre  alone,  when  none  was  faire  in  place. 

Book  I — Canto  II  41 

xxxix.  "  Then  cride  she  out,  *  Fye,  fye !  deformed  wight, 
Whose  borrowed  beautie  now  appeareth  plaine 
To  have  before  bewitched  all  mens  sight: 
O !  leave  her  soone,  or  let  her  soone  be  slaine.' 
Her  loathly  visage  viewing  with  disdaine, 
Eftsoones  I  thought  her  such  as  she  me  told, 
And  would  have  kild  her;  but  with  faigned  paine 
The  false  witch  did  my  wrathful  hand  withhold : 
So  left  her,  where  she  now  is  turnd  to  treen  mould, 

XL.  "  Thensforth  I  tooke  Duessa  for  my  Dame, 
And  in  the  witch  unweeting  joyd  long  time, 
Ne  ever  wist  but  that  she  was  the  same; 
Till  on  a  day  (that  day  is  everie  Prime, 
When  Witches  wont  do  penance  for  their  crime,) 
I  chaunst  to  see  her  in  her  proper  hew, 
Bathing  her  selfe  in  origane  and  thyme: 
A  filthy  foule  old  woman  I  did  vew, 
That  ever  to  have  toucht  her  I  did  deadly  rew* 

xli.  "  Her  neather  partes  misshapen,  monstruous, 
Were  hidd  in  water,  that  I  could  not  see; 
But  they  did  seeme  more  foule  and  hideous, 
Then  womans  shape  man  would  beleeve  to  bee4 
Thensforth  from  her  most  beastly  companie 
I  gan  refraine,  in  minde  to  slipp  away, 
Soone  as  appeard  safe  opportunitie  : 
For  danger  great,  if  not  assured  decay, 
I  saw  before  mine  eyes,  if  I  were  knowne  to  stray. 

xlii.  "  The  divelish  hag  by  chaunges  of  my  cheare 

Perceiv'd  my  thought;  and,  drownd  in  sleepie  night, 
With  wicked  herbes  and  oyntments  did  besmeare 
My  body  all,  through  charmes  and  magicke  might, 
That  all  my  senses  were  bereaved  quight: 
Then  brought  she  me  into  this  desert  waste, 
And  by  my  wretched  lovers  side  me  pight; 
Where  now,  enclosed  in  wooden  wals  full  faste, 
Banisht  from  living  wights,  our  wearie  daies  we  waste." 

xliii.  "  But  how  long  time,"  said  then  the  Elfin  knight, 
"  Are  you  in  this  misformed  hous  to  dwell?  " 
"  We  may  not  chaunge,"  (quoth  he,)  "  this  evill  plight, 

42  The  Faerie  Queene 

Till  we  be  bathed  in  a  living  well: 

That  is  the  terme  prescribed  by  the  spell.' ' 

"  O!  how/'  sayd  he,  "  mote  I  that  well  out  find, 

That  may  restore  you  to  your  wonted  well?  " 

"  Time  and  suffised  fates  to  former  kynd 

Shall  us  restore;  none  else  from  hence  may  us  unbynd." 

xliv.  The  false  Duessa,  now  Fidessa  hight, 

Heard  how  in  vaine  Fradubio  did  lament, 

And  knew  well  all  was  true.     But  the  good  knight, 

Full  of  sad  feare  and  ghastly  dreriment, 

When  all  this  speech  the  living  tree  had  spent, 

The  bleeding  bough  did  thrust  into  the  ground, 

That  from  the  blood  he  might  be  innocent, 

And  with  fresh  clay  did  close  the  wooden  wound : 

Then,  turning  to  his  Lady,  dead  with  feare  her  fownd. 

xlv.  Her  seeming  dead  he  fownd  with  feigned  feare, 
As  all  unweeting  of  that  well  she  knew ; 
And  paynd  himselfe  with  busie  care  to  reare 
Her  out  of  carelesse  swowne.     Her  eyelids  blew, 
And  dimmed  sight,  with  pale  and  deadly  hew, 
At  last  she  up  gan  lift :  with  trembling  cheare 
Her  up  he  tooke,  (too  simple  and  too  trew) 
And  oft  her  kist.     At  length,  all  passed  feare, 
He  set  her  on  her  steede,  and  forward  forth  did  beare. 

Book  I — Canto  III  43 


Forsaken  Truth  long  seekes  her  love, 
And  makes  the  Lyon  mylde; 
Marres  blind  Devotions  mart,  and  fals 
In  hand  of  leachour  vylde. 

t.  Nought  is  there  under  heav'ns  wide  hollownesse, 
That  moves  more  deare  compassion  of  mind, 
Then  beautie  brought  t'unworthie  wretchednesse 
Through  envies  snares,  or  fortunes  freakes  unkind. 
I,  whether  lately  through  her  brightnes  blynd, 
Or  through  alleageance,  and  fast  fealty, 
Which  I  do  owe  unto  all  womankynd, 
Feele  my  hart  perst  with  so  great  agony, 
When  such  I  see,  that  all  for  pitty  I  could  dy. 

11.  And  now  it  is  empassioned  so  deepe, 
For  fairest  Unaes  sake,  of  whom  I  sing, 
That  my  frayle  eies  these  lines  with  teares  do  steepe, 
To  thinke  how  she  through  guyleful  handeling, 
Though  true  as  touch,  though  daughter  of  a  king, 
Though  faire  as  ever  living  wight  was  fayre, 
Though  nor  in  word  nor  deede  ill  meriting, 
Is  from  her  knight  divorced  in  despayre, 
And  her  dew  loves  deryv'd  to  that  vile  witches  shayre. 

in.  Yet  she,  most  faithfull  Ladie,  all  this  while 
Forsaken,  wofull,  solitarie  mayd, 
Far  from  all  peoples  preace,  as  in  exile, 
In  wildernesse  and  wastfull  deserts  strayd, 
To  seeke  her  knight ;  who,  subtily  betray  d 
Through  that  late  vision  which  th'  Enchaunter  wrought, 
Had  her  abandond.     She,  of  nought  affrayd, 
Through  woods  and  wastnes  wide  him  daily  sought; 
Yet  wished  tydinges  none  of  him  unto  her  brought. 

iv.  One  day,  nigh  wearie  of  the  yrkesome  way, 
From  her  unhastie  beast  she  did  alight ; 
And  on  the  grasse  her  dainty  limbs  did  lay 

44  The  Faerie  Queene 

In  secrete  shadow,  far  from  all  mens  sight: 
From  her  fayre  head  her  fillet  she  undight, 
And  layd  her  stole  aside.  Her  angels  face, 
As  the  great  eye  of  heaven,  shyned  bright, 
And  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shady  place ; 
Did  ever  mortall  eye  behold  such  heavenly  grace, 

v.  It  fortuned,  out  of  the  thickest  wood 
A  ramping  Lyon  rushed  suddeinly, 
Hunting  full  greedy  after  salvage  blood. 
Soone  as  the  royall  virgin  he  did  spy, 
With  gaping  mouth  at  her  ran  greedily, 
To  have  attonce  devourd  her  tender  corse ; 
But  to  the  pray  when  as  he  drew  more  ny, 
His  bloody  rage  aswaged  with  remorse, 
And,  with  the  sight  amazd,  forgat  his  furious  forse. 

vi.  In  stead  thereof  he  kist  her  wearie  feet, 
And  lickt  her  lilly  hands  with  fawning  tong, 
As  he  her  wronged  innocence  did  weet. 
0,  how  can  beautie  maister  the  most  strong, 
And  simple  truth  subdue  avenging  wrong ! 
Whose  yielded  pryde  and  proud  submission, 
Still  dreading  death,  when  she  had  marked  long, 
Her  hart  gan  melt  in  great  compassion ; 
And  drizling  teares  did  shed  for  pure  affection. 

vii.  "  The  Lyon,  Lord  of  everie  beast  in  field," 
Quoth  she,  "  his  princely  puissance  doth  abate, 
And  mightie  proud  to  humble  weake  does  yield, 
Forgetfull  of  the  hungry  rage,  which  late 
Him  prickt,  in  pittie  of  my  sad  estate: 
But  he,  my  Lyon,  and  my  noble  Lord, 
How  does  he  find  in  cruell  hart  to  hate 
Her,  that  him  lov'd,  and  ever  most  adord 
As  the  God  of  my  life?  why  hath  he  me  abhord?  " 

nil.  Redounding  teares  did  choke  th'  end  of  her  plaint, 
Which  softly  ecchoed  from  the  neighbour  wood; 
And,  sad  to  see  her  sorrowfull  constraint, 
The  kingly  beast  upon  her  gazing  stood : 
With  pittie  calmd  downe  fell  his  angry  mood. 
At  last,  in  close  hart  shutting  up  her  payne, 

Book  I — Canto  III  45 

Arose  the  virgin,  borne  of  heavenly  brood, 

And  to  her  snowy  Palfrey  got  agayne, 

To  seeke  her  strayed  Champion  if  she  might  attayne. 

ix.  The  Lyon  would  not  leave  her  desolate, 
But  with  her  went  along,  as  a  strong  gard 
Of  her  chast  person,  and  a  faythfull  mate 
Of  her  sad  troubles  and  misfortunes  hard: 
Still,  when  she  slept,  he  kept  both  watch  and  ward; 
And,  when  she  wakt,  he  wayted  diligent, 
With  humble  service  to  her  will  prepard : 
From  her  fayre  eyes  he  tooke  commandement, 
And  ever  by  her  lookes  conceived  her  intent. 

x.  Long  she  thus  traveiled  through  deserts  wyde, 

By  which  she  thought  her  wandring  knight  shold  pas, 

Yet  never  shew  of  living  wight  espyde ; 

Till  that  at  length  she  found  the  troden  gras, 

In  which  the  tract  of  peoples  footing  was, 

Under  the  steepe  foot  of  a  mountaine  hore: 

The  same  she  followes,  till  at  last  she  has 

A  damzel  spyde,  slow  footing  her  before, 

That  on  her  shoulders  sad  a  pot  of  water  bore.: 

xi.  To  whom  approching  she  to  her  gan  call, 
To  weet  if  dwelling  place  were  nigh  at  hand ; 
But  the  rude  wench  her  answerd  nought  at  all : 
She  could  not  heare,  nor  speake,  nor  understand ; 
Till,  seeing  by  her  side  the  Lyon  stand, 
With  suddeine  feare  her  pitcher  downe  she  threw, 
And  fled  away :  for  never  in  that  land 
Face  of  fayre  Lady  she  before  did  vew, 
And  that  dredd  Lyons  looke  her  cast  in  deadly  hew. 

xii.  Full  fast  she  fled,  ne  ever  lookt  behynd, 
As  if  her  life  upon  the  wager  lay ; 
And  home  she  came,  whereas  her  mother  blynd 
Sate  in  eternall  night:  nought  could  she  say; 
But,  suddeine  catching  hold,  did  her  dismay 
With  quaking  hands,  and  other  signes  of  feare: 
Who,  full  of  ghastly  fright  and  cold  affray, 
Gan  shut  the  dore.     By  this  arrived  there 
Dame  Una,  weary  Dame,  and  entrance  did  requere: 

46  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  Which  when  none  yielded,  her  unruly  Page 
With  his  rude  clawes  the  wicket  open  rent, 
And  let  her  in ;  where,  of  his  cruell  rage 
Nigh  dead  with  feare,  and  faint  astonishment, 
Shee  found  them  both  in  darksome  corner  pent; 
Where  that  old  woman  day  and  night  did  pray 
Upon  her  beads,  devoutly  penitent: 
Nine  hundred  Pater  nosters  every  day, 
And  thrise  nine  hundred  Aves  she  was  wont  to  say, 

xiv.  And  to  augment  her  painefull  penaunce  more, 
Thrise  every  weeke  in  ashes  shee  did  sitt, 
And  next  her  wrinkled  skin  rough  sackecloth  wore, 
And  thrise  three  times  did  fast  from  any  bitt: 
But  now,  for  feare  her  beads  she  did  forgett: 
Whose  needlesse  dread  for  to  remove  away, 
Faire  Una  framed  words  and  count'naunce  fitt  y  ' 
Which  hardly  doen,  at  length  she  gan  them  pray, 
That  in  their  cotage  small  that  night  she  rest  her  may. 

xv.  The  day  is  spent;  and  commeth  drowsie  night, 
When  every  creature  shrowded  is  in  sleepe. 
Sad  Una  downe  her  laies  in  weary  plight, 
And  at  her  feete  the  Lyon  watch  doth  keeper 
In  stead  of  rest  she  does  lament  and  weepe, 
For  the  late  losse  of  her  deare  loved  knight, 
And  sighes,  and  grones,  and  evermore  does  steepe 
Her  tender  brest  in  bitter  teares  all  night; 
All  night  she  thinks  too  long,  and  often  lookes  for  light. 

xvi.  Now  when  Aldeboran  was  mounted  hye 
Above  the  shinie  Cassiopeias  chaire, 
And  all  in  deadly  sleepe  did  drowned  lye 
One  knocked  at  the  dore,  and  in  would  fare : 
He  knocked  fast,  and  often  curst,  and  sware, 
That  ready  entraunce  was  not  at  his  call; 
For  on  his  backe  a  heavy  load  he  bare 
Of  nightly  stelths,  and  pillage  severall, 
Which  he  had  got  abroad  by  purchas  criminall. 

XVII.  He  was,  to  weete,  a  stout  and  sturdy  thiefe, 
Wont  to  robbe  churches  of  their  ornaments, 
And  poore  mens  boxes  of  their  due  reliefe, 

Book  I — Canto  III  47 

Which  given  was  to  them  for  good  intents: 

The  holy  Saints  of  their  rich  vestiments 

He  did  disrobe,  when  all  men  carelesse  slept, 

And  spoild  the  Priests  of  their  habiliments; 

Whiles  none  the  holy  things  in  safety  kept, 

Then  he  by  conning  sleights  in  at  the  window  crept. 

xviii.  And  all  that  he  by  right  or  wrong  could  find, 
Unto  this  house  he  brought,  and  did  bestow 
Upon  the  daughter  of  this  woman  blind, 
Abessa,  daughter  of  Corceca  slow, 
With  whom  he  whoredome  usd,  that  few  did  know, 
And  fed  her  fatt  with  feast  of  offerings, 
And  plenty,  which  in  all  the  land  did  grow: 
Ne  spared  he  to  give  her  gold  and  rings ; 
And  now  he  to  her  brought  part  of  his  stolen  things. 

xix.  Thus,  long  the  dore  with  rage  and  threats  he  bett, 
Yet  of  those  fearfull  women  none  durst  rize, 
The  Lyon  frayed  them,  him  in  to  lett. 
He  would  no  lenger  stay  him  to  advize, 
But  open  breakes  the  dore  in  furious  wize, 
And  entring  is,  when  that  disdainfull  beast, 
Encountring  fierce,  him  suddein  doth  surprize; 
And,  seizing  cruell  clawes  on  trembling  brest, 
Under  his  Lordly  foot  him  proudly  hath  supprest. 

xx.  Him  booteth  not  resist,  nor  succour  call, 
His  bleeding  hart  is  in  the  vengers  hand ; 
Who  streight  him  rent  in  thousand  peeces  small, 
And  quite  dismembred  hath:  the  thirsty  land 
Dronke  up  his  life ;  his  corse  left  on  the  strand. 
His  fearefull  freends  weare  out  the  wofull  night, 
Ne  dare  to  weepe,  nor  seeme  to  understand 
The  heavie  hap  which  on  them  is  alight; 
Airraid  least  to  themselves  the  like  mishappen  might. 

xxi.  Now  when  broad  day  the  world  discovered  has, 
Up  Una  rose,  up  rose  the  lyon  eke ; 
And  on  their  former  journey  forward  pas, 
In  waies  unknowne,  her  wandring  knight  to  seeke, 
With  paines  far  passing  that  long  wandring  Greeke, 
That  for  his  love  refused  deitye. 

48  The  Faerie  Queene 

Such  were  the  labours  of  this  Lady  meeke, 

Still  seeking  him,  that  from  her  still  did  flye; 

Then  furthest  from  her  hope,  when  most  she  weened  nye. 

xxii.  Soone  as  she  parted  thence,  the  fearfull  twayne, 
That  blind  old  woman,  and  her  daughter  dear, 
Came  forth;  and,  finding  Kirkrapine  there  slayne, 
For  anguish  great  they  gan  to  rend  their  heare, 
And  beat  their  brests,  and  naked  flesh  to  teare  : 
And  when  they  both  had  wept  and  wayld  their  fill, 
Then  forth  they  ran,  like  two  amazed  deare, 
Halfe  mad  through  malice  and  revenging  will, 
To  follow  her  that  was  the  causer  of  their  ill. 

xxiii.  Whome  overtaking,  they  gan  loudly  bray, 
With  hollow  houling,  and  lamenting  cry ; 
Shamefully  at  her  rayling  all  the  way, 
And  her  accusing  of  dishonesty, 
That  was  the  flowre  of  faith  and  chastity : 
And  still,  amidst  her  rayling,  she  did  pray 
That  plagues,  and  mischiefes,  and  long  misery, 
Might  fall  on  her,  and  follow  all  the  way, 
And  that  in  endlesse  error  she  might  ever  stray. 

xxiv.  But,  when  she  saw  her  prayers  nought  prevaile, 
Shee  backe  retourned  with  some  labour  lost; 
And  in  the  way,  as  shee  did  weepe  and  waile, 
A  knight  her  mett  in  mighty  armes  embost, 
Yet  knight  was  not  for  all  his  bragging  bost; 
But  subtill  Archimag,  that  Una  sought 
By  traynes  into  new  troubles  to  have  toste : 
Of  that  old  woman  tidings  he  besought, 
If  that  of  such  a  Lady  shee  could  tellen  ought. 

xxv.  Therewith  she  gan  her  passion  to  renew, 

And  cry,  and  curse,  and  raile,  and  rend  her  heare, 

Saying,  that  harlott  she  too  lately  knew, 

That  causd  her  shed  so  many  a  bitter  teare; 

And  so  forth  told  the  story  of  her  feare. 

Much  seemed  he  to  mone  her  haplesse  chaunce, 

And  after  for  that  Lady  did  inquere ; 

Which  being  taught,  he  forward  gan  advaunce 

His  fair  enchaunted  steed,  and  eke  his  charmed  launce. 

Book  I — Canto  III  49 

xxvi.  Ere  long  he  came  where  Una  traveild  slow, 

And  that  wilde  champion  way  ting  her  besyde ; 
Whome  seeing  such,  for  dread  hee  durst  not  show 
Him  selfe  too  nigh  at  hand,  but  turned  wyde 
Unto  an  hil;  from  whence  when  she  him  spyde, 
By  his  like  seeming  shield  her  knight  by  name 
She  weend  it  was,  and  towards  him  gan  ride : 
Approaching  nigh  she  wist  it  was  the  same ; 
And  with  faire  fearefull  humblesse  towards  him  shee 

xxvii.  And  weeping  said,  "  Ah,  my  long  lacked  Lord, 
Where  have  ye  bene  thus  long  out  of  my  sight? 
Much  feared  I  to  have  bene  quite  abhord, 
Or  ought  have  done,  that  ye  displeasen  might, 
That  should  as  death  unto  my  deare  heart  light: 
For  since  mine  eie  your  joyous  sight  did  mis, 
My  chearefull  day  is  turnd  to  chearelesse  night, 
And  eke  my  night  of  death  the  shadow  is; 
But  welcome  now,  my  light,  and  shining  lampe  of  blis !  " 

xxviii.  He  thereto  meeting  said,  "  My  dearest  Dame, 
Far  be  it  from  your  thought,  and  fro  my  wil, 
To  thinke  that  knighthood  I  so  much  should  shame, 
As  you  to  leave  that  have  me  loved  stil, 
And  chose  in  Faery  court,  of  meere  goodwil, 
Where  noblest  knights  were  to  be  found  on  earth. 
The  earth  shall  sooner  leave  her  kindly  skil 
To  bring  forth  fruit,  and  make  eternal  derth, 
Then  I  leave  you,  my  liefe,  ybom  of  hevenly  berth, 

xxix.  "  And  sooth  to  say,  why  I  lefte  you  so  long, 
Was  for  to  seeke  adventure  in  straunge  place; 
Where,  Archimago  said,  a  felon  strong 
To  many  knights  did  daily  worke  disgrace; 
But  knight  he  now  shall  never  more  deface : 
Good  cause  of  mine  excuse,  that  mote  ye  please 
Weil  to  accept,  and  evermore  embrace 
My  faithfull  service,  that  by  land  and  seas 
Have  vowd  you  to  defend.    Now  then,  your  plaint 

xxx.  His  lovely  words  her  seemd  due  recompence 
Of  all  her  passed  paines :  one  loving  howre 

^o  The  Faerie  Queene 

For  many  yeares  of  sorrow  can  dispence ; 

A  dram  of  sweete  is  worth  a  pound  of  sowre. 

Shee  has  forgott  how  many  a  woeful  stowre 

For  him  she  late  endurd ;  she  speakes  no  more 

Of  past :  true  is,  that  true  love  hath  no  powre 

To  looken  backe ;  his  eies  be  fixt  before. 

Before  her  stands  her  knight,  for  whom  she  toyld  so  sore. 

xxxi.  Much  like,  as  when  the  beaten  marinere, 

That  long  hath  wandred  in  the  Ocean  wide, 
Ofte  soust  in  swelling  Tethys  saltish  teare; 
And  long  time  having  tand  his  tawney  hide 
With  blustring  breath  of  Heaven,  that  none  can  bide, 
And  scorching  flames  of  fierce  Orions  hound ; 
Soone  as  the  port  from  far  he  has  espide, 
His  chearfull  whistle  merily  doth  sound, 
And  Nereus  crownes  with  cups; his  mates  him  pledge 

xxxii.  Such  joy  made  Una,  when  her  knight  she  found; 
And  eke  th'  enchaunter  joyous  seemde  no  lesse 
Then  the  glad  marchant,  that  does  vew  from  ground 
His  ship  far  come  from  watrie  wildernesse; 
He  hurles  out  vowes,  and  Neptune  oft  doth  blesse. 
So  forth  they  past;  and  all  the  way  they  spent 
Discoursing  of  her  dreadful  late  distresse, 
In  which  he  askt  her,  what  the  Lyon  ment; 
Who  told  her  all  that  fell,  in  journey  as  she  went. 

xxxiii.  They  had  not  ridden  far,  when  they  might  see 
One  pricking  towards  them  with  hastie  heat, 
Full  strongly  armd,  and  on  a  courser  free 
That  through  his  fiersnesse  fomed  all  with  sweat, 
And  the  sharpe  yron  did  for  anger  eat, 
When  his  hot  ryder  spurd  his  chauffed  side : 
His  looke  was  sterne,  and  seemed  still  to  threat 
Cruell  revenge,  which  he  in  hart  did  hyde; 
And  on  his  shield  Sansloy  in  bloody  lines  was  dyde. 

xxxiv.  When  nigh  he  drew  unto  this  gentle  payre, 

And  saw  the  Red-crosse  which  the  knight  did  beare. 
He  burnt  in  fire ;  and  gan  ef tsoones  prepare 
Himselfe  to  batteill  with  his  couched  speare. 

Book  I — Canto  III  51 

Loth  was  that  other,  and  did  faint  through  fcare, 

To  taste  th'  untryed  dint  of  deadly  Steele: 

But  yet  his  Lady  did  so  well  him  cheare, 

That  hope  of  new  good  hap  he  gan  to  feele; 

So  bent  his  speare,  and  spurd  his  horse  with  yron  heele. 

xxxv.  But  that  proud  Paynim  forward  came  so  ferce 

And  full  of  wrath,  that,  with  his  sharphead  speare, 
Through  vainly  crossed  shield  he  quite  did  perce; 
And,  had  his  staggering  steed  not  shronke  for  feare, 
Through  shield  and  body  eke  he  should  him  beare : 
Yet,  so  great  was  the  puissance  of  his  push, 
That  from  his  sadle  quite  he  did  him  beare. 
He,  tombling  rudely  downe,  to  ground  did  rush, 
And  from  his  gored  wound  a  well  of  bloud  did  gush. 

xxxvi.  Dismounting  lightly  from  his  loftie  steed, 
He  to  him  lept,  in  minde  to  reave  his  life, 
And  proudly  said ;   "Lo!  there  the  worthie  meed 
Of  him  that  slew  Sansfoy  with  bloody  knife : 
Henceforth  his  ghost,  freed  from  repining  strife, 
In  peace  may  passen  over  Lethe  lake; 
When  mourning  altars,  purged  with  enimies  life, 
The  black  infernall  Furies  doen  aslake : 
Life  from  Sansfoy  thou  tookst,  Sansloy  shall  from  thee 

xxxvil.  Therewith  in  haste  his  helmet  gan  unlace, 
Till  Una  cride,  "  0 !  hold  that  heavie  hand, 
Deare  Sir,  what  ever  that  thou  be  in  place : 
Enough  is,  that  thy  foe  doth  vanquisht  stand 
Now  at  thy  mercy :  Mercy  not  withstand ; 
For  he  is  one  the  truest  knight  alive, 
Though  conquered  now  he  lye  on  lowly  land ; 
And,  whilest  him  fortune  favourd,  fayre  did  thrive 
In  bloudy  field;  therefore,  of  life  him  not  deprive. " 

xxxviil.  Her  piteous  wordes  might  not  abate  his  rage, 
But,  rudely  rending  up  his  helmet,  would 
Have  slayne  him  streight;  and  when  he  sees  his  age^ 
And  hoarie  head  of  Archimago  old, 
His  hasty  hand  he  doth  amased  hold, 
And  halfe  ashamed  wondred  at  the  sight: 

52  The  Faerie  Queene 

For  the  old  man  well  knew  he,  though  untold, 
In  charmes  and  magick  to  have  wondrous  might, 
Ne  ever  wont  in  field,  ne  in  round  lists,  to  fight: 

xxxix.  And  said,  "  Why  Archimago,  lucklesse  syre, 
What  doe  I  see  ?  what  hard  mishap  is  this, 
That  hath  thee  hether  brought  to  taste  mine  yre  ? 
Or  thine  the  fault,  or  mine  the  error  is, 
In  stead  of  foe  to  wound  my  friend  amis  ?  " 
He  answered  nought,  but  in  a  traunce  still  lay, 
And  on  those  guilefull  dazed  eyes  of  his 
The  cloude  of  death  did  sit.     Which  doen  away, 
He  left  him  lying  so,  ne  would  no  lenger  stay: 

XL.  But  to  the  virgin  comes;  who  all  this  while 
Amased  stands,  her  selfe  so  mockt  to  see 
By  him,  who  has  the  guerdon  of  his  guile, 
For  so  misfeigning  her  true  knight  to  bee: 
Yet  is  she  now  in  more  perplexitie, 
Left  in  the  hand  of  that  same  Paynim  bold, 
From  whom  her  booteth  not  at  all  to  flie : 
Who,  by  her  cleanly  garment  catching  hold, 
Her  from  her  Palfrey  pluckt,  her  visage  to  behold. 

XLi.  But  her  fiers  servant,  full  of  kingly  aw 

And  high  disdaine,  whenas  his  soveraine  Dame 
So  rudely  handled  by  her  foe  he  saw, 
With  gaping  jawes  full  greedy  at  him  came, 
And,  ramping  on  his  shield,  did  weene  the  same 
Have  reft  away  with  his  sharp  rending  clawes: 
But  he  was  stout,  and  lust  did  now  inflame 
His  corage  more,  that  from  his  griping  pawes 
He  hath  his  shield  redeemed,  and  forth  his  swerd  he 

xlii.  0 !  then,  too  weake  and  feeble  was  the  forse 
Of  salvage  beast  his  puissance  to  withstand ; 
For  he  was  strong,  and  of  so  mightie  corse, 
As  ever  wielded  speare  in  warlike  hand, 
And  feates  of  armes  did  wisely  understand. 
Eft  soones  he  perced  through  his  chaufed  chest 
With  thrilling  point  of  deadly  yron  brand, 
And  launcht  his  Lordly  hart:  with  death  opprest 
He  ror'd  aloud,  whiles  life  forsooke  his  stubborne  brest. 

Book  I — Canto  III  53 

xliii.  Who  now  is  left  to  keepe  the  forlorne  maid 
From  raging  spoile  of  lawlesse  victors  will? 
Her  faithfull  gard  remov'd,  her  hope  dismaid, 
Her  selfe  a  yielded  pray  to  save  or  spill: 
He  now,  Lord  of  the  field,  his  pride  to  fill, 
With  foule  reproches  and  disdaineful  spight 
Her  vildly  entertaines;  and,  will  or  nill, 
Beares  her  away  upon  his  courser  light: 
Her  prayers  nought  prevaile,  his  rage  is  more  of  might. 

xliv.  And  all  the  way,  with  great  lamenting  paine, 
And  piteous  plaintes,  she  filleth  his  dull  eares, 
That  stony  hart  could  riven  have  in  twaine ; 
And  all  the  way  she  wetts  with  flowing  teares; 
But  he,  enrag'd  with  rancor,  nothing  heares. 
Her  servile  beast  yet  would  not  leave  her  so, 
But  followes  her  far  off,  ne  ought  he  feares 
To  be  partaker  of  her  wondring  woe ; 
More  mild  in  beastly  kind  then  that  her  beastly  foe. 

54  The  Faerie  Queene 


To  sinfull  hous  of  Pryde  Duessa 
Guydes  the  faithfull  knight; 
Where,  brothers  death  to  wreak,  Sansjoy 
Doth  chaleng  him  to  fight. 

I.  Young  knight  whatever,  that  dost  armes  professe5 
And  through  long  labours  huntest  after  fame, 
Beware  of  fraud,  beware  of  ficklenesse, 
In  choice,  and  chaunge  of  thy  deare-loved  Damej 
Least  thou  of  her  believe  too  lightly  blame, 
And  rash  misweening  doe  thy  hart  remove : 
For  unto  knight  there  is  no  greater  shame 
Then  lightnesse  and  inconstancie  in  love: 
That  doth  this  Redcrosse  knights  ensample  plainly  prove. 

ii.  Who,  after  that  he  had  faire  Una  lorne, 
Through  light  misdeeming  of  her  loialtie; 
And  false  Duessa  in  her  sted  had  borne, 
Called  Fidess',  and  so  supposd  to  be, 
Long  with  her  traveild ;  till  at  last  they  see 
A  goodly  building  bravely  garnished; 
The  house  of  mightie  Prince  it  seemd  to  be, 
And  towards  it  a  broad  high  way  that  led, 
All  bare  through  peoples  feet  which  thether  traveiled* 

in.  Great  troupes  of  people  traveild  thetherward 
Both  day  and  night,  of  each  degree  and  place; 
But  few  returned,  having  scaped  hard, 
With  balefull  beggery,  or  foule  disgrace; 
Which  ever  after  in  most  wretched  case, 
Like  loathsome  lazars,  by  the  hedges  lay< 
Thether  Duessa  badd  him  bend  his  pace, 
For  she  is  wearie  of  the  toilsom  way, 
And  also  nigh  consumed  is  the  lingring  day^ 

iv.  A  stately  Pallace  built  of  squared  bricke, 
Which  cunningly  was  without  morter  laid, 
Whose  wals  were  high,  but  nothing  strong  nor  thick 

Book  I— Canto  IV  55 

And  golden  foile  all  over  them  displaid,    • 

That  purest  skye  with  brightnesse  they  dismaid: 

High  lifted  up  were  many  loftie  towres, 

And  goodly  galleries  far  over  laid, 

Full  of  faire  windowes  and  delightful  bowres: 

And  on  the  top  a  Diall  told  the  timely  howres* 

v.  It  was  a  goodly  heape  for  to  behould, 

And  spake  the  praises  of  the  workmans  witt; 
But  full  great  pittie,  that  so  faire  a  mould 
Did  on  so  weake  foundation  ever  sitt: 
For  on  a  sandie  hill,  that  still  did  flitt 
And  fall  away,  it  mounted  was  full  hie, 
That  every  breath  of  heaven  shaked  itt: 
And  all  the  hinder  partes,  that  few  could  spie, 
Were  ruinous  and  old,  but  painted  cunningly. 

vi.  Arrived  there,  they  passed  in  forth  right; 
For  still  to  all  the  gates  stood  open  wide: 
Yet  charge  of  them  was  to  a  Porter  hight, 
Cald  Malvenu,  who  entrance  none  denide: 
Thence  to  the  hall,  which  was  on  every  side 
With  rich  array  and  costly  arras  dight. 
Infinite  sortes  of  people  did  abide 
There  waiting  long,  to  win  the  wished  sight 
Of  her,  that  was  the  Lady  of  that  Pallace  bright. 

vii.   By  them  they  passe,  all  gazing  on  them  round, 
And  to  the  Presence  mount;  whose  glorious  vew 
Their  frayle  amazed  senses  did  confound: 
In  living  Princes  court  none  ever  knew 
Such  endlesse  richesse,  and  so  sumpteous  shew; 
Ne  Persia  selfe,  the  nourse  of  pompous  pride, 
Like  ever  saw.     And  there  a  noble  crew 
Of  Lords  and  Ladies  stood  on  every  side, 
Which  with  their  presence  fayre  the  place  much  beautiflde. 

viii.  High  above  all  a  cloth  of  State  was  spred, 
And  a  rich  throne,  as  bright  as  sunny  day; 
On  which  there  sate,  most  brave  embellished 
With  royall  robes  and  gorgeous  array, 
A  mayden  Queene  that  shone  as  Titans  ray, 
In  glistring  gold  and  perelesse  pretious  stone; 

r6  The  Faerie  Queene 

Yet  her  bright  blazing  beautie  did  assay 

To  dim  the  brightnesse  of  her  glorious  throne, 

As  envying  her  selfe,  that  too  exceeding  shone: 

ix.  Exceeding  shone,  like  Phcebus  fayrest  childe, 
That  did  presume  his  fathers  fyrie  wayne, 
And  flaming  mouthes  of  steedes,  unwonted  wilde, 
Through  highest  heaven  with  weaker  hand  to  rayne : 
Proud  of  such  glory  and  advancement  vayne, 
While  flashing  beames  do  daze  his  feeble  eyen, 
He  leaves  the  welkin  way  most  beaten  playne, 
And,  rapt  with  whirling  wheeles,  inflames  the  skyen 
With  fire  not  made  to  burne,  but  fayrely  for  to  shyne. 

x.  So  proud  she  shyned  in  her  princely  state, 
Looking  to  heaven,  for  earth  she  did  disdayne, 
And  sitting  high,  for  lowly  she  did  hate: 
Lo !  underneath  her  scornefull  f eete  was  layne 
A  dreadfull  Dragon  with  an  hideous  trayne; 
And  in  her  hand  she  held  a  mirrhour  bright, 
Wherein  her  face  she  often  vewed  fayne, 
And  in  her  selfe-lov'd  semblance  took  delight; 
For  she  was  wondrous  faire,  as  any  living  wight. 

xi.  Of  griesly  Pluto  she  the  daughter  was, 
And  sad  Prosperina,  the  Queene  of  helle; 
Yet  did  she  thinke  her  pearelesse  worth  to  pas 
That  parentage,  with  pride  so  did  she  swell; 
And  thundring  Jove,  that  high  in  heaven  doth  dwell 
And  wield  the  world,  she  claymed  for  her  syre, 
Or  if  that  any  else  did  Jove  excell; 
For  to  the  highest  she  did  still  aspyre, 
Or,  if  ought  higher  were  than  that,  did  it  desyre. 

xii.  And  proud  Lucifera  men  did  her  call, 

That  made  her  selfe  a  Queene,  and  crownd  to  be; 

Yet  rightfull  kingdome  she  had  none  at  all, 

Ne  heritage  of  native  soveraintie; 

But  did  usurpe  with  wrong  and  tyrannie 

Upon  the  scepter  which  she  now  did  hold : 

Ne  ruld  her  Realme  with  lawes,  but  pollicie, 

And  strong  advizement  of  six  wisards  old, 

That,  with  their  counsels  bad,  her  kingdome  did  uphold. 

Book  I — Canto  IV  $j 

xiii.  Soone  as  the  Elfin  knight  in  presence  came, 
And  false  Duessa,  seeming  Lady  fayre, 
A  gentle  Husher,  Vanitie  by  name, 
Made  rowme,  and  passage  for  them  did  prepaire: 
So  goodly  brought  them  to  the  lowest  stayre 
Of  her  high  throne ;  where  they,  on  humble  knee 
Making  obeysaunce,  did  the  cause  declare, 
Why  they  were  come  her  roiall  state  to  see, 
To  prove  the  wide  report  of  her  great  Majestee, 

xiv.  With  loftie  eyes,  halfe  loth  to  looke  so  lowe, 
She  thancked  them  in  her  disdainefull  wise? 
Ne  other  grace  vouchsafed  them  to  showe 
Of  Princesse  worthy ;  scarse  them  bad  arise. 
Her  Lordes  and  Ladies  all  this  while  devise 
Themselves  to  setten  forth  to  straungers  sight: 
Some  frounce  their  curled  heare  in  courtly  guise ; 
Some  prancke  their  ruffes ;  and  others  trimly  dight 
Their  gay  attyre;  each  others  greater  pride  does  spight. 

XV.  Goodly  they  all  that  knight  doe  entertayne, 

Right  glad  with  him  to  have  increast  their  crew; 
But  to  Duess'  each  one  himselfe  did  payne 
All  kindnesse  and  faire  courtesie  to  shew, 
For  in  that  court  whylome  her  well  they  knew: 
Yet  the  stout  Faery  mongst  the  middest  crowd 
Thought  all  their  glorie  vaine  in  knightly  vew, 
And  that  great  Princesse  too  exceeding  prowd, 
That  to  strange  knight  no  better  countenance  allowd. 

xvi.  Suddein  upriseth  from  her  stately  place 

The  roiall  Dame,  and  for  her  coche  doth  call: 

All  hurtlen  forth;  and  she,  with  princely  pace, 

As  faire  Aurora  in  her  purple  pall 

Out  of  the  East  the  dawning  day  doth  call. 

So  forth  she  comes ;  her  brightnes  brode  doth  blaze. 

The  heapes  of  people,  thronging  in  the  hall, 

Doe  ride  each  other  upon  her  to  gaze : 

Her  glorious  glitterand  light  doth  all  mens  eies  amaze. 

xvn.  So  forth  she  comes,  and  to  her  coche  does  clyme, 
Adorned  all  with  gold  and  girlonds  gay, 
That  seemed  as  fresh  as  Flora  in  her  prime; 

5  8  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  strove  to  match,  in  roiall  rich  array, 

Great  Junoes  golden  chayre;  the  which,  they  say, 

The  gods  stand  gazing  on,  when  she  does  ride 

To  Joves  high  hous  through  heavens  bras-paved  way, 

Drawne  of  fayre  Pecocks,  that  excell  in  pride, 

And  full  of  Argus  eyes  their  tayles  dispredden  wide. 

xviii.  But  this  was  drawne  of  six  unequall  beasts, 
On  which  her  six  sage  Counsellours  did  ryde, 
Taught  to  obay  their  bestiall  beheasts, 
With  like  conditions  to  their  kindes  applyde : 
Of  which  the  first,  that  all  the  rest  did  guyde, 
Was  sluggish  Idlenesse,  the  nourse  of  sin; 
Upon  a  slouthfull  Asse  he  chose  to  ryde, 
Arayd  in  habit  blacke,  and  amis  thin, 
Like  to  an  holy  Monck,  the  service  to  begin. 

Xix.  And  in  his  hand  his  Portesse  still  he  bare, 

That  much  was  worne,  but  therein  little  redd  ; 

For  of  devotion  he  had  little  care, 

Still  drownd  in  sleepe,  and  most  of  his  daies  dedd: 

Scarse  could  he  once  uphold  his  heavie  hedd, 

To  looken  whether  it  were  night  or  day. 

May  seeme  the  wayne  was  very  evill  ledd, 

When  such  an  one  had  guiding  of  the  way, 

That  knew  not  whether  right  he  went,  or  else  astray. 

xx.  From  worldly  cares  himselfe  he  did  esloyne, 
And  greatly  shunned  manly  exercise; 
From  everie  worke  he  chalenged  essoyne, 
For  contemplation  sake:  yet  otherwise 
His  life  he  led  in  lawlesse  riotise, 
By  which  he  grew  to  grievous  malady; 
For  in  his  lustlesse  limbs,  through  evill  guise, 
A  shaking  fever  raignd  continually. 
Such  one  was  Idlenesse,  first  of  this  company* 

xxi.  And  by  his  side  rode  loathsome  Gluttony, 
Deformed  creature,  on  a  filthie  swyne. 
His  belly  was  upblowne  with  luxury, 
And  eke  with  fatnesse  swollen  were  his  eyne; 
And  like  a  Crane  his  necke  was  long  and  fyne 
With  which  he  swallowed  up  excessive  feast, 

Book  I — Canto  IV  59 

For  want  whereof  poore  people  oft  did  pyne: 

And  all  the  way,  most  like  a  brutish  beast, 

He  spued  up  his  gorge,  that  all  did  him  deteast. 

xxii.  In  greene  vine  leaves  he  was  right  fitly  clad, 
For  other  clothes  he  could  not  ware  for  heate; 
And  on  his  head  an  yvie  girland  had, 
From  under  which  fast  trickled  downe  the  sweat. 
Still  as  he  rode  he  somewhat  still  did  eat, 
And  in  his  hand  did  beare  a  bouzing  can, 
Of  which  he  supt  so  oft,  that  on  his  seat 
His  dronken  corse  he  scarse  upholden  can : 
In  shape  and  life  more  like  a  monster  then  a  man. 

xxiii.  Unfit  he  was  for  any  worldly  thing, 
And  eke  unhable  once  to  stirre  or  go ; 
Not  meet  to  be  of  counsell  to  a  king, 
Whose  mind  in  meat  and  drinke  was  drowned  so, 
That  from  his  frend  he  seeldome  knew  his  fo. 
Full  of  diseases  was  his  carcas  blew, 
And  a  dry  dropsie  through  his  flesh  did  flow, 
Which  by  misdiet  daily  greater  grew. 
Such  one  was  Gluttony,  the  second  of  that  crew. 

xxiv.  And  next  to  him  rode  lustfull  Lechery 

Upon  a  bearded  Gote,  whose  rugged  heare, 

And  whally  eies  (the  signe  of  gelosy,) 

Was  like  the  person  self e  whom  he  did  beare : 

Who  rough,  and  blacke,  and  filthy,  did  appeare, 

Unseemely  man  to  please  faire  Ladies  eye; 

Yet  he  of  Ladies  oft  was  loved  deare, 

When  fairer  faces  were  bid  standen  by: 

0 !  who  does  know  the  bent  of  womens  fantasy  ? 

xxv.  In  a  greene  gowne  he  clothed  was  full  faire, 
Which  underneath  did  hide  his  filthinesse ; 
And  in  his  hand  a  burning  hart  he  bare, 
Full  of  vaine  follies  and  new  f anglenesse : 
For  he  was  false,  and  fraught  with  ficklenesse, 
And  learned  had  to  love  with  secret  lookes ; 
And  well  could  daunce,  and  sing  with  ruefulnesse ; 
And  fortunes  tell,  and  read  in  loving  bookes, 
And  thousand  other  waies  to  bait  his  fleshly  hookes. 

60  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  Inconstant  man,  that  loved  all  he  saw, 
And  lusted  after  all  that  he  did  love ; 
Ne  would  his  looser  life  be  tide  to  law, 
But  joyd  weake  wemens  hearts  to  tempt,  and  prove, 
If  from  their  loyall  loves  he  might  them  move : 
Which  lewdnes  hid  him  with  reprochfull  pain 
Of  that  foule  evill,  which  all  men  reprove, 
That  rotts  the  marrow,  and  consumes  the  braine. 
Such  one  was  Lechery,  the  third  of  all  this  traine. 

xxvii.  And  greedy  Avarice  by  him  did  ride, 
Uppon  a  Camell  loaden  all  with  gold : 
Two  iron  coffers  hong  on  either  side, 
With  precious  metall  full  as  they  might  hold ; 
And  in  his  lap  an  heap  of  coine  he  told ; 
For  of  his  wicked  pelfe  his  God  he  made, 
And  unto  hell  him  selfe  for  money  sold : 
Accursed  usury  was  all  his  trade, 
And  right  and  wrong  ylike  in  equall  ballaunce  waide. 

xxvni.  His  life  was  nigh  unto  deaths  dore  yplaste; 

And  thred-bare  cote,  and  cobled  shoes,  hee  ware; 
Ne  scarse  good  morsell  all  his  life  did  taste, 
But  both  from  backe  and  belly  still  did  spare, 
To  fill  his  bags,  and  richesse  to  compare: 
Yet  childe  ne  kinsman  living  had  he  none 
To  leave  them  to ;  but  thorough  daily  care 
To  get,  and  nightly  feare  to  lose  his  owne, 
He  led  a  wretched  life,  unto  himselfe  unknowne. 

xxix.  Most  wretched  wight,  whom  nothing  might  sufrlse; 
Whose  greedy  lust  did  lacke  in  greatest  store ; 
Whose  need  had  end,  but  no  end  covetise ; 
Whose  welth  was  want,  whose  plenty  made  him  pore ; 
Who  had  enough,  yett  wished  ever  more; 
A  vile  disease :  and  eke  in  foote  and  hand 
A  grievous  gout  tormented  him  full  sore, 
That  well  he  could  not  touch,  nor  goe,  nor  stand. 
Such  one  was  Avarice,  the  fourth  of  this  faire  band. 

xxx.  And  next  to  him  malicious  Envy  rode 

Upon  a  ravenous  wolfe,  and  still  did  chaw 
Between  his  cankred  teeth  a  venemous  tode, 

Book  I— Canto  IV  61 

That  all  the  poison  ran  about  his  chaw; 

But  inwardly  he  chawed  his  owne  maw 

At  neighbours  welth,  that  made  him  ever  sad, 

For  death  it  was,  when  any  good  he  saw; 

And  wept,  that  cause  of  weeping  none  he  had ; 

But  when  he  heard  of  harme  he  wexed  wondrous  glad. 

xxxi.  All  in  a  kirtle  of  discolourd  say 

He  clothed  was,  ypaynted  full  of  eies; 

And  in  his  bosome  secretly  there  lay 

An  hatefull  Snake,  the  which  his  taile  uptyes 

In  many  folds,  and  mortall  sting  implyes. 

Still  as  he  rode  he  gnasht  his  teeth  to  see 

Those  heapes  of  gold  with  griple  Covetyse; 

And  grudged  at  the  great  felicitee 

Of  proud  Lucifera,  and  his  owne  companee. 

xxxii.  He  hated  all  good  workes  and  vertuous  deeds, 
And  him  no  lesse,  that  any  like  did  use ; 
And  who  with  gratious  bread  the  hungry  feeds, 
His  almes  for  want  of  faith  he  doth  accuse. 
So  every  good  to  bad  he  doth  abuse ; 
And  eke  the  verse  of  famous  Poets  witt 
He  does  backebite,  and  spightfull  poison  spues 
From  leprous  mouth  on  all  that  ever  writt. 
Such  one  vile  Envy  was,  that  fifte  in  row  did  sitt. 

xxxiii.  And  him  beside  rides  fierce  revenging  Wrath, 
Upon  a  Lion,  loth  for  to  be  led ; 
And  in  his  hand  a  burning  brond  he  hath, 
The  which  he  brandisheth  about  his  hed: 
His  eies  did  hurle  forth  sparcles  fiery  red, 
And  stared  sterne  on  all  that  him  beheld; 
As  ashes  pale  of  hew,  and  seeming  ded ; 
And  on  his  dagger  still  his  hand  he  held, 
Trembling  through  hasty  rage  when  choler  in  him  sweld. 

xxxiv.  His  ruffin  raiment  all  was  staind  with  blood 
Which  he  had  split,  and  all  to  rags  yrent, 
Through  unadvized  rashnes  woxen  wood ; 
For  of  his  hands  he  had  no  governement, 
Ne  car'd  for  blood  in  his  avengement: 
But,  when  the  furious  fitt  was  overpast, 

62  The  Faerie  Queene 

His  cruel  facts  he  often  would  repent ; 

Yet,  wilfull  man,  he  never  would  forecast 

How  many  mischieves  should  ensue  his  heedlesse  hast. 

xxxv.  Full  many  mischief es  follow  cruell  Wrath: 
Abhorred  bloodshed,  and  tumultuous  strife, 
Unmanly  murder,  and  unthrifty  scath, 
Bitter  despight,  with  rancours  rusty  knife, 
And  fretting  grief e,  the  enemy  of  life : 
All  these,  and  many  evils  moe  haunt  ire, 
The  swelling  Splene,  and  Frenzy  raging  rife, 
The  shaking  Palsey,  and  Saint  Fraunces  fire. 
Such  one  was  Wrath,  the  last  of  this  ungodly  tire. 

xxxvi.  And,  after  all,  upon  the  wagon  beame, 

Rode  Sathan  with  a  smarting  whip  in  hand, 

With  which  he  forward  lasht  the  laesy  teme, 

So  oft  as  Slowth  still  in  the  mire  did  stand. 

Huge  routs  of  people  did  about  them  band, 

Showting  for  joy;  and  still  before  their  way 

A  foggy  mist  had  covered  all  the  land ; 

And,  underneath  their  feet,  all  scattered  lay 

Dead  sculls  and  bones  of  men  whose  life  had  gone  astray. 

xxxvri.  So  forth  they  marchen  in  this  goodly  sort, 
To  take  the  solace  of  the  open  aire, 
And  in  fresh  flowring  fields  themselves  to  sport: 
Emongst  the  rest  rode  that  false  Lady  faire, 
The  foule  Duessa,  next  unto  the  chaire 
Of  proud  Lucifer',  as  one  of  the  traine : 
But  that  good  knight  would  not  so  nigh  repaire, 
Him  selfe  estraunging  from  their  joyaunce  vaine, 
Whose  fellowship  seemd  far  unfitt  for  warlike  swaine. 

xxxviii.  So,  having  solaced  themselves  a  space 

With  pleasaunce  of  the  breathing  fields  yfed, 
They  backe  retourned  to  the  princely  Place ; 
Whereas  an  errant  knight  in  armes  ycled, 
And  heathnish  shield,  wherein  with  letters  red, 
Was  writt  Sans  joy,  they  new  arrived  find : 
Enflam'd  with  fury  and  fiers  hardy  hed, 
He  seemd  in  hart  to  harbour  thoughts  unkind, 
And  nourish  bloody  vengeance  in  his  bitter  mind. 

Book  I — Canto  IV  63 

XXXIX.  Who,  when  the  shamed  shield  of  slaine  Sansfoy 
He  spide  with  that  same  Faery  champions  page, 
Bewraying  him  that  did  of  late  destroy 
His  eldest  brother;  burning  all  with  rage, 
He  to  him  lept,  and  that  same  envious  gage 
Of  victors  glory  from  him  snacht  away : 
But  th'  Elfin  knight,  which  ought  that  warlike  wage, 
Disdaind  to  loose  the  meed  he  wonne  in  fray ; 
And,  him  rencountring  fierce,  reskewd  the  noble  pray. 

xl.  Therewith  they  gan  to  hurtlen  greedily, 
Redoubted  battaile  ready  to  darrayne, 
And  clash  their  shields,  and  shake  their  swerds  on  hy, 
That  with  their  sturre  they  troubled  all  the  traine ; 
Till  that  great  Queene,  upon  eternall  paine 
Of  high  displeasure  that  ensewen  might, 
Commaunded  them  their  fury  to  refraine; 
And,  if  that  either  to  that  shield  had  right, 
In  equall  lists  they  should  the  morrow  next  it  fight. 

xli.  "  Ah  dearest  Dame,"  quoth  then  the  Paynim  bold, 
"  Pardon  the  error  of  enraged  wight, 
Whome  great  griefe  made  forgett  the  raines  to  hold 
Of  reasons  rule,  to  see  this  recreaunt  knight, 
No  knight,  but  treachour  full  of  false  despight 
And  shameful  treason,  who  through  guile  hath  slayn 
The  prowest  knight  that  ever  field  did  fight, 
Even  stout  Sansfoy,  (0  who  can  then  refrayn?) 
Whose  shield  he  beares  renverst,  the  more  to  heap  disdayn. 

xlii.  "  And,  to  augment  the  glorie  of  his  guile, 
His  dearest  love,  the  faire  Fidessa,  loe ! 
Is  there  possessed  of  the  tray  tour  vile ; 
Who  reapes  the  harvest  sowen  by  his  foe, 
Sowen  in  bloodie  field,  and  bought  with  woe : 
That  brothers  hand  shall  dearely  well  requight, 
So  be,  0  Queene !  you  equall  favour  showe." 
Him  litle  answerd  th'  angry  Elfin  knight; 
He  never  meant  with  words,  but  swords,  to  plead  his  right : 

xliii.  But  threw  his  gauntlet,  as  a  sacred  pledge 
His  cause  in  combat  the  next  day  to  try : 
So  been  they  parted  both,  with  harts  on  edge 

64  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  be  aveng'd  each  on  his  enimy. 

That  night  they  pas  in  joy  and  jollity, 

Feasting  and  courting  both  in  bowre  and  hall; 

For  Steward  was  excessive  Gluttony, 

That  of  his  plenty  poured  forth  to  all : 

Which  doen,  the  Chamberlain,  Slowth,  did  to  rest  them  call. 

xliv.  Now  wheras  darkesome  night  had  all  displayed 
Her  coleblacke  curtein  over  brightest  skye; 
The  warlike  youthes,  on  dayntie  couches  layd, 
Did  chace  away  sweet  sleepe  from  sluggish  eye, 
To  muse  on  meanes  of  hoped  victory. 
But  whenas  Morpheus  had  with  leaden  mace 
Arrested  all  that  courtly  company, 
Uprose  Duessa  from  her  resting  place, 
And  to  the  Paynims  lodging  comes  with  silent  pace. 

xlv.  Whom  broad  awake  she  findes,  in  troublous  fitt, 
Fore-casting  how  his  foe  he  might  annoy ; 
And  him  amoves  with  speaches  seeming  fitt: 
"  Ah  deare  Sansjoy,  next  dearest  to  Sansfoy, 
Cause  of  my  new  grief e,  cause  of  my  new  joy; 
Joyous  to  see  his  ymage  in  mine  eye, 
And  greevd  to  thinke  how  foe  did  him  destroy, 
That  was  the  flowre  of  grace  and  chevalry e ; 
Lo !  his  Fidessa,  to  thy  secret  faith  I  flye." 

xl  vi.  With  gentle  wordes  he  can  her  fay  rely  greet, 
And  bad  say  on  the  secrete  of  her  hart: 
Then,  sighing  soft;  "  I  learne  that  litle  sweet 
Oft  tempred  is,"  (quoth  she,)  "  with  muchell  smart: 
For  since  my  brest  was  launcht  with  lovely  dart 
Of  deare  Sansfoy,  I  never  joyed  howre, 
But  in  eternall  woes  my  weaker  hart 
Have  wasted,  loving  him  with  all  my  powre, 
And  for  his  sake  have  felt  full  many  an  heavie  stowre. 

xlvii.  "  At  last,  when  perils  all  I  weened  past, 

And  hop'd  to  reape  the  crop  of  all  my  care, 

Into  new  woes  unweeting  I  was  cast 

By  this  false  faytor,  who  unworthie  ware 

His  worthie  shield,  whom  he  with  guilefull  snare 

Entrapped  slew,  and  brought  to  shamefull  grave: 

Book  I — Canto  IV  65 

Me,  silly  maid,  away  with  him  he  bare, 

And  ever  since  hath  kept  in  darksom  cave, 

For  that  I  would  not  yeeld  that  to  Sansfoy  I  gave. 

xlviii.  "  But  since  faire  Sunne  hath  sperst  that  lowring  clowd, 
And  to  my  loathed  life  now  shewes  some  light, 
Under  your  beames  I  will  me  safely  shrowd 
From  dreaded  storme  of  his  disdainfull  spight: 
To  you  th?  inheritance  belonges  by  right 
Of  brothers  prayse,  to  you  eke  longes  his  love. 
Let  not  his  love,  let  not  his  restlesse  spright, 
Be  unreveng'd,  that  calles  to  you  above 
From  wandring  Stygian  shores,  where  it  doth  endlesse 

xlix.  Thereto  said  he,  "  Faire  Dame,  be  nought  dismaid 
For  sorrowes  past;  their  grief e  is  with  them  gone: 
Ne  yet  of  present  perill  be  affraid, 
For  needlesse  feare  did  never  vantage  none; 
And  helplesse  hap  it  booteth  not  to  mone. 
Dead  is  Sansfoy,  his  vitall  paines  are  past, 
Though  greeved  ghost  for  vengeance  deep  do  grone: 
He  lives  that  shall  him  pay  his  dewties  last, 
And  guiltie  Elfin  blood  shall  sacrifice  in  hast." 

i   "0!  but  I  feare  the  fickle  freakes,"  (quoth  shee) 
"  Of  fortune  false,  and  oddes  of  armes  in  field." 
"  Why,  dame,"  (quoth  he)  "  what  oddes  can  ever  bee, 
Where  both  doe  fight  alike,  to  win  or  yield?  " 
"  Yea,  but,"  (quoth  she)  "  he  beares  a  charmed  shield, 
And  eke  enchaunted  armes ;  that  none  can  perce, 
Ne  none  can  wound  the  man  that  does  them  wield." 
"  Charmd  or  enchaunted,"  answered  he  then  ferce, 
"  I  no  whitt  reck;  ne  you  the  like  need  to  reherce. 

li.  "  But,  faire  Fidessa  sithens  fortunes  guile, 
Or  enimies  powre,  hath  now  captived  you, 
Returne  from  whence  ye  came,  and  rest  a  while, 
Till  morrow  next  that  I  the  Elfe  subdew, 
And  with  Sansfoy es  dead  dowry  you  endew." 
"  Ah  me !  that  is  a  double  death,"  (she  said) 
"  With  proud  foes  sight  my  sorrow  to  reiew, 
Where  ever  yet  I  be,  my  secret  aide 
Shall  follow  you."     So,  passing  forth,  she  him  obaid. 

66  The  Faerie  Queene 


The  faithfull  knight  in  equall  field 
Subdewes  his  f aithlesse  foe ; 
Whom  false  Duessa  saves,  and  for 
His  cure  to  hell  does  goe. 

I.  The  noble  hart  that  harbours  vertuous  thought, 
And  is  with  childe  of  glorious  great  intent, 
Can  never  rest,  untill  it  forth  have  brought 
Th'  eternall  brood  of  glorie  excellent: 
Such  restlesse  passion  did  all  night  torment 
The  flaming  corage  of  that  Faery  knight, 
Devizing  how  that  doughtie  turnament 
With  greatest  honour  he  atchieven  might : 
Still  did  he  wake,  and  still  did  watch  for  dawning  light. 

il  At  last,  the  golden  Orientall  gate 
Of  greatest  heaven  gan  to  open  fayre; 
And  Phoebus,  fresh  as  brydegrome  to  his  mate, 
Came  dauncing  forth,  shaking  his  deawie  hayre, 
And  hurld  his  glistring  beams  through  gloomy  ayre. 
Which  when  the  wakeful  Elfe  perceiv'd,  streight  way, 
He  started  up,  and  did  him  selfe  prepayre 
In  sunbright  armes,  and  battailous  array ; 
For  with  that  Pagan  proud  he  combatt  will  that  day. 

in.  And  forth  he  comes  into  the  commune  hall; 
Where  earely  waite  him  many  a  gazing  eye, 
To  weet  what  end  to  straunger  knights  may  fall. 
There  many  Minstrales  maken  melody, 
To  drive  away  the  dull  melancholy  j 
And  many  Bardes,  that  to  the  trembling  chord 
Can  tune  their  timely  voices  cunningly ; 
And  many  Chroniclers,  that  can  record 
Old  loves,  and  warres  for  Ladies  doen  by  many  a  Lord. 

iv.  Soone  after  comes  the  cruell  Sarazin, 
In  woven  maile  all  armed  warily ; 
And  sternly  lookes  at  him,  who  not  a  pin 

Book  I — Canto  V  67 

Does  care  for  looke  of  living  creatures  eye. 

They  bring  them  wines  of  Greece  and  Araby, 

And  daintie  spices  fetch  from  furthest  Ynd, 

To  kindle  heat  of  corage  privily ; 

And  in  the  wine  a  solemne  oth  thy  bynd 

T'  observe  the  sacred  lawes  of  armes  that  are  assynd. 

v.  At  last  forth  comes  that  far  renowned  Queene : 
With  royall  pomp  and  princely  majestie 
She  is  ybrought  unto  a  paled  greene, 
And  placed  under  stately  canapee, 
The  warlike  feates  of  both  those  knights  to  see. 
On  th'  other  side  in  all  mens  open  vew 
Duessa  placed  is,  and  on  a  tree 
Sansfoy  his  shield  is  hangd  with  bloody  hew; 
Both  those  the  lawrell  girlonds  to  the  victor  dew. 

vi.  A  shrilling  trompett  sownded  from  on  hye, 
And  unto  battaill  bad  them  selves  addresser 
Their  shining  shieldes  about  their  wrestes  they  tye, 
And  burning  blades  about  their  heades  doe  blesse, 
The  instruments  of  wrath  and  heavinesse. 
With  greedy  force  each  other  doth  assayle, 
And  strike  so  fiercely,  that  they  do  impresse 
Deepe  dinted  furrowes  in  the  battred  mayle: 
The  yron  walles  to  ward  their  blowes  are  weak  and  fraile. 

vii.  The  Sarazin  was  stout  and  wondrous  strong, 
And  heaped  blowes  like  yron  hammers  great; 
For  after  blood  and  vengeance  he  did  long: 
The  knight  was  fiers,  and  full  of  youthly  heat, 
And  doubled  strokes,  like  dreaded  thunders  threat; 
For  all  for  praise  and  honour  he  did  fight. 
Both  stricken  stryke,  and  beaten  both  doe  beat, 
That  from  their  shields  forth  flyeth  firie  light, 
And  hewen  helmets  deepe  shew  marks  of  eithers  might. 

viii.  So  th'  one  for  wrong,  the  other  strives  for  right. 
As  when  a  Gryfon,  seized  of  his  pray, 
A  Dragon  fiers  encountreth  in  his  flight, 
Through  widest  ayre  making  his  ydle  way, 
That  would  his  rightfull  ravine  rend  away: 
With  hideous  horror  both  together  smight, 

68  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  souce  so  sore  that  they  the  heavens  affray; 

The  wise  Southsayer,  seeing  so  sad  sight, 

TV  amazed  vulgar  telles  of  warres  and  mortall  fight* 

ix.  So  th'  one  for  wrong,  the  other  strives  for  right, 
And  each  to  deadly  shame  would  drive  his  foe: 
The  cruell  Steele  so  greedily  doth  bight 
In  tender  flesh,  that  streames  of  blood  down  flow; 
With  which  the  armes,  that  earst  so  bright  did  show, 
Into  a  pure  vermillion  now  are  dyde. 
Great  ruth  in  all  the  gazers  harts  did  grow, 
Seeing  the  gored  woundes  to  gape  so  wyde, 
That  victory  they  dare  not  wish  to  either  side* 

x.  At  last  the  Paynim  chaunst  to  cast  his  eye, 
His  suddein  eye  flaming  with  wrathfull  fyre, 
Upon  his  brothers  shield,  which  hong  thereby : 
Therewith  redoubled  was  his  raging  yre, 
And  said;   "  Ah!  wretched  sonne  of  wofull  syre, 
Doest  thou  sit  wayling  by  blacke  Stygian  lake, 
Why  lest  here  thy  shield  is  hangd  for  victors  hyre  ? 
And,  sluggish  german,  doest  thy  forces  slake 
To  af ter-send  his  foe,  that  him  may  overtake  ? 

xi.  "  Goe,  caytive  Elfe,  him  quickly  overtake, 

And  soone  redeeme  from  his  long-wandring  woe: 

Goe,  guiltie  ghost,  to  him  my  message  make, 

That  I  his  shield  have  quit  from  dying  foe." 

Therewith  upon  his  crest  he  stroke  him  so, 

That  twise  he  reeled,  readie  twise  to  fall  : 

End  of  the  doubtfull  battaile  deemed  tho 

The  lookers  on;  and  lowd  to  him  gan  call 

The  false  Duessa,  "  Thine  the  shield,  and  I,  and  all!  " 

xii.  Soone  as  the  Faerie  heard  his  Ladie  speake, 
Out  of  his  swowning  dreame  he  gan  awake ; 
And  quickning  faith,  that  earst  was  woxen  weake, 
The  creeping  deadly  cold  away  did  shake : 
Tho  mov'd  with  wrath,  and  shame,  and  Ladies  sake, 
Of  all  attonce  he  cast  avengd  to  be, 
And  with  so'  exceeding  furie  at  him  strake, 
That  forced  him  to  stoupe  upon  his  knee : 
Had  he  not  stouped  so,  he  should  have  cloven  bee. 

Book  I — Canto  V  69 

xiii.  And  to  him  said;   "  Goe  now,  proud  Miscreant, 
Thyselfe  thy  message  do  to  german  deare; 
Alone  he,  wandring,  thee  too  long  doth  want: 
Goe  say,  his  foe  thy  shield  with  his  doth  beare." 
Therewith  his  heavie  hand  he  high  gan  reare, 
Him  to  have  slaine;  when  lo!  a  darkesome  clowd 
Upon  him  fell:   he  no  where  doth  appeare, 
But  vanisht  is.     The  Elfe  him  calls  alowd, 
But  answer  none  receives;  the  darknes  him  does  shrowd. 

xiv.  In  haste  Duessa  from  her  place  arose, 

And  to  him  running  said;   "  0!  prowest  knight, 

That  ever  Ladie  to  her  love  did  chose, 

Let  now  abate  the  terrour  of  your  might, 

And  quench  the  flame  of  furious  despight, 

And  bloodie  vengeance:  lo!  th'  inf email  powres, 

Covering  your  foe  with  cloud  of  deadly  night, 

Have  borne  him  hence  to  Plutoes  balefull  bowres: 

The  conquest  yours ;  I  yours ;  the  shield,  and  glory  yours." 

xv.  Not  all  so  satisfide,  with  greedy  eye 

He  sought  all  round  about,  his  thristy  blade 

To  bathe  in  blood  of  faithlesse  enimy; 

Who  all  that  while  lay  hid  in  secret  shade. 

He  standes  amazed  how  he  thence  should  fade: 

At  last  the  trumpets  Triumph  sound  on  hie; 

And  running  Heralds  humble  homage  made, 

Greeting  him  goodly  with  new  victorie, 

And  to  him  brought  the  shield,  the  cause  of  enmitie. 

xvi.  Wherewith  he  goeth  to  that  soveraine  Queene; 
And  falling  her  before  on  lowly  knee, 
To  her  makes  present  of  his  service  seene: 
Which  she  accepts  with  thankes  and  goodly  gree, 
Greatly  advauncing  his  gay  chevalree: 
So  marcheth  home,  and  by  her  takes  the  knight, 
Whom  all  the  people  followe  with  great  glee, 
Shouting,  and  clapping  all  their  hands  on  hight, 
That  all  the  ayre  it  fills,  and  flyes  to  heaven  bright. 

xvii.  Home  is  he  brought,  and  layd  in  sumptous  bed, 
Where  many  skilfull  leaches  him  abide 
To  salve  his  hurts,  that  yet  still  freshly  bled. 

70  The  Faerie  Queene 

In  wine  and  oyle  they  wash  his  woundes  wide, 
And  softly  gan  embalme  on  everie  side : 
And  all  the  while  most  heavenly  melody 
About  the  bed  sweet  musicke  did  divide, 
Him  to  beguile  of  grief e  and  agony; 
And  all  the  while  Duessa  wept  full  bitterly. 

xviii.  As  when  a  wearie  traveiler,  that  strayes 

By  muddy  shore  of  broad  seven-mouthed  Nile, 

Unv/eeting  of  the  perillous  wandring  wayes, 

Doth  meete  a  cruell  craftie  Crocodile, 

Which,  in  false  griefe  hyding  his  harmefull  guile, 

Doth  weepe  full  sore,  and  sheddeth  tender  teares; 

The  foolish  man,  that  pities  all  this  while 

His  mournefull  plight,  is  swallowed  up  unwares, 

Forgetfull  of  his  owne  that  mindes  an  others  cares. 

xix.  So  wept  Duessa  untill  eventyde, 

That  shyning  lampes  in  Joves  high  house  were  light; 

Then  forth  she  rose,  ne  lenger  would  abide, 

But  comes  unto  the  place  where  th'  Hethen  knight, 

In  slombring  swownd,  nigh  voyd  of  vitall  spright, 

Lay  cover'd  with  inchaunted  cloud  all  day: 

Whom  when  she  found,  as  she  him  left  in  plight, 

To  wayle  his  wofull  case  she  would  not  stay, 

But  to  the  Easterne  coast  of  heaven  makes  speedy  way : 

xx.  Where  griesly  Night,  with  visage  deadly  sad, 
That  Phcebus  chearefull  face  durst  never  vew, 
And  in  a  foule  blacke  pitchy  mantle  clad, 
She  fmdes  forth  comming  from  her  darksome  mew, 
Where  she  all  day  did  hide  her  hated  hew. 
Before  the  dore  her  yron  charet  stood, 
Already  harnessed  for  journey  new, 
And  cole  blacke  steedes  yborne  of  hellish  brood, 
That  on  their  rusty  bits  did  champ  as  they  were  wood. 

xxi.  Who  when  she  saw  Duessa,  sunny  bright, 
Adornd  with  gold  and  jewels  shining  cleare, 
She  greatly  grew  amazed  at  the  sight, 
And  th'  unacquainted  light  began  to  feare, 
For  never  did  such  brightnes  there  appeare; 
And  would  have  backe  retyred  to  her  cave, 

Book  I — Canto  V  71 

Untill  the  witches  speach  she  gan  to  heare, 
Saying;  "  Yet,  0  thou  dreaded  Dame!  I  crave 
Abyde,  till  I  have  told  the  message  which  I  have." 

xxii.  She  stayd;  and  foorth  Duessa  gan  proceede: 
"  0 !  thou  most  auncient  Grandmother  of  all, 
More  old  then  Jove,  whom  thou  at  first  didst  breede, 
Or  that  great  house  of  Gods  cselestiall, 
Which  wast  begot  in  Daemogorgons  hall, 
And  sawst  the  secrets  of  the  world  unmade, 
Why  suffredst  thou  thy  Nephewes  deare  to  fall, 
With  Elfin  sword  most  shamefully  betrade  ? 
Lo !  where  the  stout  Sansjoy  doth  sleepe  in  deadly  shade. 

xxiii.  "  And  him  before,  I  saw  with  bitter  eyes 

The  bold  Sansfoy  shrinck  underneath  his  speare: 

And  now  the  pray  of  fowles  in  field  he  lyes, 

Nor  wayld  of  friends,  nor  layd  on  groning  beare, 

That  whylome  was  to  me  too  dearely  deare. 

0 !  what  of  gods  then  boots  it  to  be  borne, 

If  old  Aveugles  sonnes  so  evill  heare  ? 

Or  who  shall  not  great  Nightes  children  scorne, 

WThen  two  of  three  her  Nephewes  are  so  fowle  f orlorne  ? 

xxiv.  "  Up,  then!  up,  dreary  Dame,  of  darknes  Queene! 
Go,  gather  up  the  reliques  of  thy  race ; 
Or  else  goe  them  avenge,  and  let  be  seene 
That  dreaded  Night  in  brightest  day  hath  place, 
And  can  the  children  of  fayre  light  deface." 
Her  feeling  speaches  some  compassion  mov'd 
In  hart,  and  chaunge  in  that  great  mothers  face: 
Yet  pitty  in  her  heart  was  never  prov'd 
Till  then,  for  evermore  she  hated,  never  lov'd : 

xxv.  And  said,  "  Deare  daughter,  rightly  may  I  rew 
The  fall  of  famous  children  borne  of  mee, 
And  good  successes  which  their  foes  ensew: 
But  who  can  turne  the  stream  of  destinee, 
Or  breake  the  chayne  of  strong  necessitee, 
Which  fast  is  tyde  to  Joves  eternall  seat? 
The  sonnes  of  Day  he  favoureth,  I  see, 
And  by  my  ruines  thinkes  to  make  them  great: 
To  make  one  great  by  others  losse  is  bad  excheat. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  Yet  shall  they  not  escape  so  freely  all, 

For  some  shall  pay  the  price  of  others  guilt; 
And  he  the  man  that  made  Sansfoy  to  fall, 
Shall  with  his  owne  blood  price  that  he  hath  spilt. 
But  what  art  thou,  that  telst  of  Nephews  kilt?  " 
"  I,  that  do  seeme  not  I,  Duessa  ame," 
Quoth  she,  "  how  ever  now,  in  garments  gilt 
And  gorgeous  gold  arrayd,  I  to  thee  came, 
Duessa  I,  the  daughter  of  Deceipt  and  Shame." 

xxvii.  Then,  bowing  downe  her  aged  backe,  she  kist 
The  wicked  witch,  saying,  "  In  that  fayre  face 
The  false  resemblaunce  of  Deceipt,  I  wist, 
Did  closely  lurke ;  yet  so  true-seeming  grace 
It  carried,  that  I  scarse  in  darksome  place 
Could  it  discerne,  though  I  the  mother  bee 
Of  falsehood,  and  roote  of  Duessaes  race. 
0  welcome,  child !  whom  I  have  longd  to  see, 
And  now  have  seene  unwares.  Lo !  now  I  goe  with  thee." 

xxviii.  Then  to  her  yron  wagon  she  betakes, 

And  with  her  beares  the  fowle  welfavourd  witch. 
Through  mirkesome  aire  her  ready  way  she  makes : 
Her  twyfold  Teme,  of  which  two  blacke  as  pitch, 
And  two  were  browne,  yet  each  to  each  unlich, 
Did  softly  swim  away,  ne  ever  stamp 
Unlesse  she  chaunst  their  stubborne  mouths  to  twitch ; 
Then,  foming  tarre,  their  bridles  they  would  champ, 
And  trampling  the  fine  element  would  fiercely  ramp. 

xxix.  So  well  they  sped,  that  they  be  come  at  length 
Unto  the  place  whereas  the  Paynim  lay, 
Devoid  of  outward  sence  and  native  strength, 
Coverd  with  charmed  cloud  from  vew  of  day, 
And  sight  of  men,  since  his  late  luckelesse  fray. 
His  cruell  wounds,  with  cruddy  bloud  congeald, 
They  binden  up  so  wisely  as  they  may, 
And  handle  softly,  till  they  can  be  heald : 
So  lay  him  in  her  charett,  close  in  night  conceald. 

xxx.  And,  all  the  while  she  stood  upon  the  ground, 
The  wakefull  dogs  did  never  cease  to  bay, 
As  giving  warning  of  th'  unwonted  sound, 

Book  I — Canto  V  73 

With  which  her  yron  wheeles  did  them  affray, 
And  her  darke  griesly  looke  them  much  dismay: 
The  messenger  of  death,  the  ghastly  owle, 
With  drery  shriekes  did  also  her  bewray; 
And  hungry  wolves  continually  did  howle 
At  her  abhorred  face,  so  filthy  and  so  fowle. 

xxxi.  Thence  turning  backe  in  silence  softe  they  stole, 
And  brought  the  heavy  corse  with  easy  pace 
To  yawning  gulfe  of  deepe  Avernus  hole. 
By  that  same  hole  an  entraunce,  darke  and  bace, 
With  smoake  and  sulphur  hiding  all  the  place, 
Descends  to  hell :  there  creature  never  past, 
That  backe  retourned  without  heavenly  grace ; 
But  dreadfull  Furies,  which  their  chaines  have  brast, 
And  damned  sprights  sent  forth  to  make  ill  men  aghast. 

xxxii.  By  that  same  way  the  direfull  dames  doe  drive 
Their  mournefull  charett,  hid  with  rusty  blood, 
And  downe  to  Plutoes  house  are  come  bilive: 
Which  passing  through,  on  every  side  them  stood 
The  trembling  ghosts  with  sad  amazed  mood, 
Chattring  their  iron  teeth,  and  staring  wide 
With  stony  eies ;  and  all  the  hellish  brood 
Of  feends  infernall  flockt  on  every  side, 
To  gaze  on  erthly  wight  that  with  the  Night  durst  ride. 

xxxiii.  They  pas  the  bitter  waves  of  Acheron, 
Where  many  soules  sit  wailing  woefully, 
And  come  to  fiery  flood  of  Phlegeton, 
Whereas  the  damned  ghosts  in  torments  fry, 
And  with  sharp  shrilling  shriekes  doe  bootlesse  cry, 
Cursing  high  Jove,  the  which  them  thither  sent. 
The  house  of  endlesse  paine  is  built  thereby, 
In  which  ten  thousand  sorts  of  punishment 
The  cursed  creatures  doe  eternally  torment. 

xxxiv.  Before  the  threshold  dreadfull  Cerberus 
His  three  deformed  heads  did  lay  along, 
Curled  with  thousand  adders  venemous, 
And  lilled  forth  his  bloody  flaming  tong: 
At  them  he  gan  to  reare  his  bristles  strong, 
And  felly  gnarre,  untill  Dayes  enemy 

74  The  Faerie  Queene 

Did  him  appease ;  then  downe  his  taile  he  hong, 

And  suffered  them  to  passen  quietly ; 

For  she  in  hell  and  heaven  had  power  equally. 

xxxv.  There  was  Ixion  turned  on  a  wheele, 

For  daring  tempt  the  Queene  of  heaven  to  sin ; 
And  Sisyphus  an  huge  round  stone  did  reele 
Against  an  hill,  ne  might  from  labour  lin ; 
There  thristy  Tantalus  hong  by  the  chin ; 
And  Tityus  fed  a  vulture  on  his  maw; 
Typhceus  joynts  were  stretched  on  a  gin; 
Theseus  condemned  to  endlesse  slouth  by  law; 
And  fifty  sisters  water  in  leke  vessels  draw. 

xxxvi.  They  all,  beholding  worldly  wights  in  place,- 

Leave  off  their  worke,  unmindfull  of  their  smart, 
To  gaze  on  them ;  who  forth  by  them  doe  pace, 
Till  they  be  come  unto  the  furthest  part ; 
Where  was  a  Cave  ywrought  by  wondrous  art 
Deepe,  darke,  uneasy,  doleful,  comfortlesse. 
In  which  sad  Aesculapius  far  apart 
Emprisond  was  in  chaines  remedilesse; 
For  that  Hippolytus  rent  corse  he  did  redresse. 

xxxvii.  Hippolytus  a  jolly  huntsman  was, 

That  wont  in  charett  chace  the  foming  bore: 

He  all  his  Peeres  in  beauty  did  surpas, 

But  Ladies  love  as  losse  of  time  forbore: 

His  wanton  stepdame  loved  him  the  more ; 

But,  when  she  saw  her  offred  sweets  refusd; 

Her  love  she  turnd  to  hate,  and  him  before 

His  father  fierce  of  treason  false  accusd, 

And  with  her  gealous  termes  his  open  eares  abusd: 

xxxviii.  Who,  all  in  rage,  his  Sea-god  syre  besought 

Some  cursed  vengeaunce  on  his  sonne  to  cast. 

From  surging  gulf  two  Monsters  streight  were  brought, 

With  dread  whereof  his  chacing  steedes  aghast 

Both  charett  swifte  and  huntsman  overcast: 

His  goodly  corps,  on  ragged  cliffs  yrent, 

Was  quite  dismembered,  and  his  members  chast 

Scattered  on  every  mountaine  as  he  went, 

That  of  Hippolytus  was  lefte  no 

Book  I — Canto  V  75 

xxxix.  His  cruell  step-dame,  seeing  what  was  donne, 
Her  wicked  daies  with  wretched  knife  did  end, 
In  death  avowing  th'  innocence  of  her  sonne. 
Which  hearing,  his  rash  syre  began  to  rend 
His  heare,  and  hasty  tong  that  did  offend: 
Tho,  gathering  up  the  reliques  of  his  smart, 
By  Dianes  meanes,  who  was  Hippolyts  frend, 
Them  brought  to  Aesculape,  that  by  his  art 
Did  heale  them  all  againe,  and  ioyned  every  part. 

xl.  Such  wondrous  science  in  mans  witt  to  rain 
When  Jove  avizd,  that  could  the  dead  revive, 
And  fates  expired  could  renew  again, 
Of  endlesse  life  he  might  him  not  deprive, 
But  unto  hell  did  thrust  him  downe  alive, 
With  flashing  thunderbolt  ywounded  sore : 
WThere,  long  remaining,  he  did  alwaies  strive 
Himselfe  with  salves  to  health  for  to  restore, 
And  slake  the  heavenly  fire  that  raged  evermore. 

xli.  There  auncient  Night  arriving  did  alight 

From  her  high  weary  wayne,  and  in  her  armes 
To  Aesculapius  brought  the  wounded  knight: 
Whome  having  softly  disaraid  of  armes, 
Tho  gan  to  him  discover  all  his  harmes, 
Beseeching  him  with  prayer  and  with  praise, 
If  either  salves,  or  oyles,  or  herbes,  or  charmes, 
A  fordonne  wight  from  dore  of  death  mote  raise, 
He  would  at  her  request  prolong  her  nephews  daies. 

xlii.  "  Ah  Dame,"  (quoth  he)  "  thou  temptest  me  in  vaine, 
To  dare  the  thing,  which  daily  yet  I  rew, 
And  the  old  cause  of  my  continued  paine 
W7ith  like  attempt  to  like  end  to  renew. 
Is  not  enough,  that,  thrust  from  heaven  dew, 
Here  endlesse  penaunce  for  one  fault  I  pay, 
But  that  redoubled  crime  with  vengeaunce  new 
Thou  biddest  me  to  eeke  ?     Can  Night  defray 
The  wrath  of  thundring  Jove,  that  rules  both  night  and 

xliii.  "  Not  so,"  (quoth  she)  "  but,  sith  that  heavens  king 
From  hope  of  heaven  hath  thee  excluded  quight, 

76  The  Faerie  Queene 

Why  fearest  thou,  that  canst  not  hope  for  thing ; 

And  fearest  not  that  more  thee  hurten  might, 

Now  in  the  powre  of  everlasting  Night  ? 

Goe  to  then,  0  thou  far  renowmed  sonne 

Of  great  Apollo !  shew  thy  famous  might 

In  medicine,  that  els  hath  to  thee  wonne 

Great  pains,  and  greater  praise,  both  never  to  be  donne.,, 

xliv.  Her  words  prevaild :  And  then  the  learned  leach 
His  cunning  hand  gan  to  his  wounds  to  lay, 
And  all  things  els  the  which  his  art  did  teach : 
Which  having  seene,  from  thence  arose  away 
The  mother  of  dredd  darknesse,  and  let  stay 
Aveugles  sonne  there  in  the  leaches  cure ; 
And,  backe  retourning,  took  her  wonted  way 
To  ronne  her  timely  race,  whilst  Phoebus  pure 
In  westerne  waves  his  weary  wagon  did  recure* 

xlv.  The  false  Duessa,  leaving  noyous  Night, 

Returned  to  stately  pallace  of  Dame  Pryde : 

Where  when  she  came,  she  found  the  Faery  knight 

Departed  thence ;  albee  his  woundes  wyde 

Not  throughly  heald  unready  were  to  ryde. 

Good  cause  he  had  to  hasten  thence  away ; 

For  on  a  day  his  wary  Dwarfe  had  spyde 

WTrere  in  a  dungeon  deepe  huge  nombers  lay 

Of  caytive  wretched  thralls,  that  way  led  night  and  day: 

XL vi.  A  ruefull  sight  as  could  be  seene  with  eie; 
Of  whom  he  learned  had  in  secret  wise 
The  hidden  cause  of  their  captivitie ; 
How  mortgaging  their  lives  to  Covetise, 
Through  wastfull  Pride  and  wanton  Riotise, 
They  were  by  law  of  that  proud  Tyrannesse, 
Provokt  with  Wrath  and  Envyes  false  surmise, 
Condemned  to  that  Dongeon  mercilesse, 
Where  they  should  live  in  wo,  and  dye  in  wretchednesse. 

xlvii.  There  was  that  great  proud  king  of  Babylon, 
That  would  compell  all  nations  to  adore, 
And  him  as  onely  God  to  call  upon ; 
Till,  through  celestiall  doome  thrown  out  of  dore, 
Into  an  Oxe  he  was  transformd  of  yore. 

Book  I — Canto  V  Jj 

There  also  was  king  Croesus,  that  enhaunst 

His  hart  too  high  through  his  great  richesse  store; 

And  proud  Antiochus,  the  which  advaunst 

His  cursed  hand  gainst  God,  and  on  his  altares  daunst. 

xlviii.  And  them  long  time  before,  great  Nimrod  was, 

That  first  the  world  with  sword  and  fire  warrayd ; 

And  after  him  old  Ninus  far  did  pas 

In  princely  pomp,  of  all  the  world  obayd. 

There  also  was  that  mightie  Monarch  layd 

Low  under  all,  yet  above  all  in  pride, 

That  name  of  native  syre  did  fowle  upbrayd, 

And  would  as  Ammons  sonne  be  magnified, 

Till,  scornd  of  God  and  man,  a  shamefull  death  he  dide, 

xlix.  All  these  together  in  one  heape  were  throwne, 
Like  carkases  of  beastes  in  butchers  stall. 
And  in  another  corner  wide  were  strowne 
The  Antique  ruins  of  the  Romanes  fall: 
Great  Romulus,  the  Grandsyre  of  them  all; 
Froud  Tarquin,  and  too  lordly  Lentulus; 
Stout  Scipio,  and  stubborne  Hanniball; 
Ambitious  Sylla,  and  sterne  Marius; 
High  Caesar,  great  Pompey,  and  fiers  Antonius. 

L.  Amongst  these  mightie  men  were  wemen  mixt, 
Proud  wemen,  vaine,  forgetfull  of  their  yoke; 
The  bold  Semiramis,  whose  sides  transfixt 
With  sonnes  own  blade  her  fowle  reproches  spoke: 
Fayre  Sthenobcea,  that  her  selfe  did  choke 
With  wilfull  chord  for  wanting  of  her  will; 
High  minded  Cleopatra,  that  with  stroke 
Of  Aspes  sting  her  selfe  did  stoutly  kill; 
And  thousands  moe  the  like  that  did  that  dongeon  fill. 

Li.  Besides  the  endlesse  routes  of  wretched  thralles, 
Which  thither  were  assembled  day  by  day 
From  all  the  world,  after  their  wofull  falles, 
Through  wicked  pride  and  wasted  welthes  decay. 
But  most  of  all,  which  in  that  dongeon  lay, 
Fell  from  high  Princes  courtes,  or  Ladies  bowres, 
Where  they  in  ydle  pomp,  or  wanton  play, 
Consumed  had  their  goods  and  thriftlesse  howres, 
And  lastly  thrown  themselves  into  these  heavy  stowres* 


The  Faerie  Queene 

lii.  Whose  case  whenas  the  careful  Dwarfe  had  tould, 
And  made  ensample  of  their  mournfull  sight 
Unto  his  Maister,  he  no  lenger  would 
There  dwell  in  perill  of  like  painefull  plight, 
But  earely  rose ;  and,  ere  that  dawning  light 
Discovered  had  the  world  to  heaven  wyde, 
He  by  a  privy  Posterne  tooke  his  flight, 
That  of  no  envious  eyes  he  mote  be  spyde ; 
For,  doubtlesse,  death  ensewd  if  any  him  descryde. 

liii.  Scarse  could  he  footing  find  in  that  fowle  way, 
For  many  corses,  like  a  great  Lay-stall, 
Of  murdred  men,  which  therein  strowed  lay 
Without  remorse  or  decent  funerall; 
Which  al  through  that  great  Princesse  pride  did  fall, 
And  came  to  shamefull  end.     And  them  besyde, 
Forth  ryding  underneath  the  castell  wall, 
A  Donghill  of  dead  carcases  he  spyde ; 
The  dreadfull  spectacle  of  that  sad  house  of  Pryde, 

Book  I — Canto  VI  79 


From  lawlesse  lust  by  wondrous  graco] 
Fayre  Una  is  releast : 
Whom  salvage  nation  does  adore, 
And  learnes  her  wise  beheast. 

i.  As  when  a  ship,  that  flyes  fayre  under  sayle, 
An  hidden  rocke  escaped  hath  unwares, 
That  lay  in  waite  her  wrack  for  to  bewaile, 
The  Marriner  yet  halfe  amazed  stares 
At  perill  past,  and  yet  in  doubt  ne  dares 
To  joy  at  his  foolhappie  oversight: 
So  doubly  is  distrest  twixt  joy  and  cares 
The  dreadlesse  corage  of  this  Elfin  knight, 
Having  escapt  so  sad  ensamples  in  his  sights 

11.  Yet  sad  he  was,  that  his  too  hastie  speed 
The  fayre  Duess'  had  forst  him  leave  behind; 
And  yet  more  sad,  that  Una,  his  deare  dreed, 
Her  truth  hath  staynd  with  treason  so  unkind : 
Yet  cryme  in  her  could  never  creature  find ; 
But  for  his  love,  and  for  her  own  selfe  sake, 
She  wandred  had  from  one  to  other  Ynd, 
Him  for  to  seeke,  ne  ever  would  forsake, 
Till  her  unwares  the  fiers  Sansloy  did  overtake : 

in.  Who,  after  Archimagoes  fowle  defeat, 
Led  her  away  into  a  forest  wilde ; 
And,  turning  wrathfull  fyre  to  lustfull  heat, 
With  beastly  sin  thought  her  to  have  defilde, 
And  made  the  vassall  of  his  pleasures  vilde. 
Yet  first  he  cast  by  treatie,  and  by  traynes 
Her  to  persuade  that  stubborne  fort  to  yilde : 
For  greater  conquest  of  hard  love  he  gaynes, 
That  workes  it  to  his  will,  then  he  that  it  constraines. 

iv.  With  fawning  wordes  he  courted  her  a  while ; 
And,  looking  lovely  and  oft  sighing  sore, 
Her  constant  hart  did  tempt  with  diverse  guile: 

80  The  Faerie  Qucene 

But  wordes,  and  lookes,  and  sighes  she  did  abhore ; 

As  rock  of  Diamond  stedfast  evermore. 

Yet  for  to  feed  his  fyne  lustfull  eye, 

He  snatcht  the  vele  that  hong  her  face  before : 

Then  gan  her  beautie  shyne  as  brightest  skye, 

And  burnt  his  beastly  hart  t'efforce  her  chastitye. 

v.  So  when  he  saw  his  flatt'ring  artes  to  fayle, 
And  subtile  engines  bett  from  batteree ; 
With  greedy  force  he  gan  the  fort  assay le, 
Whereof  he  weend  possessed  soone  to  bee, 
And  win  rich  spoile  of  ransackt  chastitee. 
Ah  heavens !  that  doe  this  hideous  act  behold, 
And  heavenly  virgin  thus  outraged  see, 
How  can  ye  vengeance  just  so  long  withhold, 
And  hurle  not  flashing  flames  upon  that  Paynim  bold  ? 

vi.  The  pitteous  mayden,  carefull,  comfortlesse, 

Does  throw  out  thrilling  shriekes,  and  shrieking  cryes, 
The  last  vaine  helpe  of  wemens  great  distresse, 
And  with  loud  plaintes  importuneth  the  skyes, 
That  molten  starres  doe  drop  like  weeping  eyes; 
And  Phoebus,  flying  so  most  shamefull  sight, 
His  blushing  face  in  foggy  cloud  implyes, 
And  hydes  for  shame.     What  witt  of  mortal  wight 
Can  now  devise  to  quitt  a  thrall  from  such  a  plight? 

VII.  Eternall  providence,  exceeding  thought, 

WTiere  none  appeares  can  make  her  selfe  a  way. 
A  wondrous  way  it  for  this  Lady  wrought, 
From  Lyons  clawes  to  pluck  the  gryped  pray. 
Her  shrill  outcryes  and  shrieks  so  loud  did  bray, 
That  all  the  woodes  and  forestes  did  resownd : 
A  troupe  of  Faunes  and  Satyres  far  away 
Within  the  wood  were  daunting  in  a  rownd, 
Whiles  old  Sylvanus  slept  in  shady  arber  sownd : 

Vlll.  Who,  when  they  heard  that  pitteous  strained  voice, 
In  haste  forsooke  their  rurall  meriment, 
And  ran  towardes  the  far  rebownded  noyce, 
To  weet  what  wight  so  loudly  did  lament. 
Unto  the  place  they  come  incontinent: 
Whom  when  the  raging  Sarazin  espyde, 

Book  I — Canto  VI  81 

A  rude,  mishapen,  monstrous  rablement, 
Whose  like  he  never  saw,  he  durst  not  byde, 
But  got  his  ready  steed,  and  fast  away  gan  ryde. 

ix.  The  wyld  woodgods,  arrived  in  the  place, 
Ihere  find  the  virgin,  doolfull,  desolate, 
With  ruffled  rayments,  and  fay  re  blubbred  face, 
As  her  outrageous  foe  had  left  her  late; 
And  trembling  yet  through  feare  of  former  hate. 
All  stand  amazed  at  so  uncouth  sight, 
And  gin  to  pittie  her  unhappie  state : 
All  stand  astonied  at  her  beautie  bright, 
In  their  rude  eyes  unworthie  of  so  wofull  plight. 

x.  She,  more  amazd,  in  double  dread  doth  dwell; 
And  every  tender  part  for  feare  does  shake. 
As  when  a  greedy  Wolfe,  through  honger  fell, 
A  seely  Lamb  far  from  the  flock  does  take, 
Of  whom  he  meanes  his  bloody  feast  to  make, 
A  Lyon  spyes  fast  running  towards  him, 
The  innocent  pray  in  hast  he  does  forsake ; 
Which,  quitt  from  death,  yet  quakes  in  every  lim 
With  chaunge  of  feare,  to  see  the  Lyon  looke  so  grim. 

xi.  Such  fearefull  fitt  assaid  her  trembling  hart, 
Ne  word  to  speake,  ne  joynt  to  move,  she  had; 
The  salvage  nation  feele  her  secret  smart, 
And  read  her  sorrow  in  her  count'nance  sad; 
Their  frowning  forheades,  with  rough  homes  yclad, 
And  rustick  horror,  all  asyde  doe  lay ; 
And,  gently  grenning,  shew  a  semblance  glad 
To  comfort  her;  and,  feare  to  put  away, 
Their  backward  bent  knees  teach  her  humbly  to  obay. 

xii.  The  doubtfull  Damzell  dare  not  yet  committ 
Her  single  person  to  their  barbarous  truth; 
But  still  twixt  feare  and  hope  amazd  does  sitt, 
Late  learnd  what  harme  to  hasty  trust  ensu'th. 
They,  in  compassion  of  her  tender  youth, 
And  wonder  of  her  beautie  soverayne, 
Are  wonne  with  pitty  and  unwonted  ruth; 
And,  all  prostrate  upon  the  lowly  playne, 
Doe  kisse  her  feete,  and  fawne  on  her  with  count'nance 

82  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  Their  harts  she  ghesseth  by  their  humble  guise, 
And  yieldes  her  to  extremitie  of  time : 
So  from  the  ground  she  fearelesse  doth  arise, 
And  walketh  forth  without  suspect  of  crime. 
They,  all  as  glad  as  birdes  of  joyous  Pryme, 
Thence  lead  her  forth,  about  her  dauncing  round, 
Shouting,  and  singing  all  a  shepheards  ryme; 
And  with  greene  braunches  strowing  all  the  ground, 
Do  worship  her  as  Queene  with  olive  girlond  cround. 

xiv.  And  all  the  way  their  merry  pipes  they  sound, 
That  all  the  woods  with  doubled  Eccho  ring ; 
And  with  their  horned  feet  doe  weare  the  ground, 
Leaping  like  wanton  kids  in  pleasant  Spring. 
So  towards  old  Sylvanus  they  her  bring ; 
Who,  with  the  noyse  awaked,  commeth  out 
To  weet  the  cause,  his  weake  steps  governing 
And  aged  limbs  on  cypresse  stadle  stout; 
And  with  an  yvie  twyne  his  waste  is  girt  about. 

xv.  Far  off  he  wonders  what  them  makes  so  glad ; 
Or  Bacchus  merry  fruit  they  did  invent, 
Or  Cybeles  franticke  rites  have  made  them  mad : 
They,  drawing  nigh,  unto  their  God  present 
That  flowre  of  fayth  and  beautie  excellent. 
The  God  himselfe,  vewing  that  mirrhour  rare, 
Stood  long  amazd,  and  burnt  in  his  intent  : 
His  owne  fayre  Dryope  now  he  thinkes  not  faire, 
And  Pholoe  fowle,  when  her  to  this  he  doth  compaire. 

xvi.  The  woodborne  people  fall  before  her  flat, 
And  worship  her  as  Goddesse  of  the  wood; 
And  old  Sylvanus  selfe  bethinkes  not  what 
To  thinke  of  wight  so  fayre,  but  gazing  stood 
In  doubt  to  deeme  her  borne  of  earthly  brood  : 
Sometimes  dame  Venus  selfe  he  seemes  to  see; 
But  Venus  never  had  so  sober  mood  : 
Sometimes  Diana  he  her  takes  to  be, 
But  misseth  bow  and  shaftes,  and  buskins  to  her  knee. 

xvii.  By  vew  of  her  he  ginneth  to  revive 

His  ancient  love,  and  dearest  Cyparisse; 
And  calles  to  mind  his  pourtraiture  alive, 

Book  I — Canto  VI  83 

How  fayre  he  was,  and  yet  not  fayre  to  this ; 
And  how  he  slew  with  glauncing  dart  amisse 
A  gentle  Hynd,  the  which  the  lovely  boy 
Did  love  as  life,  above  all  worldly  blisse ; 
For  griefe  whereof  the  lad  n'ould  after  joy, 
But  pynd  away  in  anguish  and  selfe-wild  annoy. 

xviii.  The  wooddy  nymphes,  faire  Hamadryades, 
Her  to  behold  do  thither  runne  apace; 
And  all  the  troupe  of  light-foot  Naiades 
Flocke  all  about  to  see  her  lovely  face; 
But,  when  they  vewed  have  her  heavenly  grace, 
They  envy  her  in  their  malitious  mind, 
And  fly  away  for  feare  of  fowle  disgrace : 
But  all  the  Satyres  scorne  their  woody  kind, 
And  henceforth  nothing  faire  but  her  on  earth  they  find. 

xix.  Glad  of  such  lucke,  the  luckelesse  lucky  mayd 
Did  her  content  to  please  their  feeble  eyes, 
And  long  time  with  that  salvage  people  stayd, 
To  gather  breath  in  many  miseryes. 
During  which  time  her  gentle  wit  she  plyes 
To  teach  them  truth,  which  worshipt  her  in  vaine, 
And  made  her  th'  Image  of  Idolatryes; 
But  when  their  bootlesse  zeale  she  did  restrayne 
From  her  own  worship,  they  her  Asse  would  worship  fayn, 

xx.  It  fortuned,  a  noble  warlike  knight 
By  just  occasion  to  that  forrest  came 
To  seeke  his  kindred,  and  the  lignage  right 
From  whence  he  tooke  his  weldeserved  name: 
He  had  in  armes  abroad  wonne  muchell  fame, 
And  fild  far  landes  with  glorie  of  his  might: 
Plaine,  faithfull,  true,  and  enimy  of  shame, 
And  ever  lov'd  to  fight  for  Ladies  right; 
But  in  vaine  glorious  frayes  he  litle  did  delight. 

xxi.  A  Satyres  sonne,  yborne  in  forrest  wyld, 
By  straunge  adventure  as  it  did  betyde, 
And  there  begotten  of  a  Lady  myld, 
Fayre  Thyamis,  the  daughter  of  Labryde ; 
That  was  in  sacred  bandes  of  wedlocke  tyde 
To  Therion,  a  loose  unruly  swayne, 

84  The  Faerie  Queene 

Who  had  more  joy  to  raunge  the  forrest  wyde, 
And  chase  the  salvage  beast  with  busie  payne, 
Then  serve  his  Ladies  love,  and  waste  in  pleasures  vayne. 

xxii.  The  forlorne  mayd  did  with  loves  longing  burne, 
And  could  not  lacke  her  lovers  company; 
But  to  the  woods  she  goes,  to  serve  her  turne, 
And  seeke  her  spouse  that  from  her  still  does  fly, 
And  f ollowes  other  game  and  venery : 
A  Satyre  chaunst  her  wandring  for  to  finde; 
And,  kindling  coles  of  lust  in  brutish  eye, 
The  loyall  linkes  of  wedlocke  did  unbinde, 
And  made  her  person  thrall  unto  his  beastly  kind. 

xxiii.  So  long  in  secret  cabin  there  he  held 
Her  captive  to  his  sensuall  desyre, 
Till  that  with  timely  fruit  her  belly  sweld, 
And  bore  a  boy  unto  that  salvage  syre : 
Then  home  he  suffred  her  for  to  retyre, 
For  ransome  leaving  him  the  late-borne  childe; 
Whom,  till  to  ryper  yeares  he  gan  aspyre, 
He  nousled  up  in  life  and  manners  wilde, 
Emongst  wilde  beastes  and  woods,  from  lawes  of  men 

xxiv.  For  all  he  taught  the  tender  ymp  was  but 
To  banish  cowardize  and  bastard  f eare : 
His  trembling  hand  he  would  him  force  to  put 
Upon  the  Lyon  and  the  rugged  Beare; 
And  from  the  she  Beares  teats  her  whelps  to  teare ; 
And  eke  wyld  roring  Buls  he  would  him  make 
To  tame,  and  ryde  their  backes,  not  made  to  beare; 
And  the  Robuckes  in  flight  to  overtake, 
That  everie  beast  for  feare  of  him  did  fly,  and  quake. 

xxv.  Thereby  so  fearlesse  and  so  fell  he  grew, 

That  his  own  syre,  and  maister  of  his  guise, 

Did  often  tremble  at  his  horrid  vew; 

And  oft,  for  dread  of  hurt,  would  him  advise 

The  angry  beastes  not  rashly  to  despise, 

Nor  too  much  to  provoke ;  for  he  would  learne 

The  Lyon  stoup  to  him  in  lowly  wise, 

(A  lesson  hard)  and  make  the  Libbard  sterne 

Leave  roaring,  when  in  rage  he  for  revenge  did  earne. 

Book  I — Canto  VI  85 

xxvi.  And  for  to  make  his  powre  approved  more, 

Wyld  beastes  in  yron  yokes  he  would  compell; 
The  spotted  Panther,  and  the  tusked  Bore, 
The  Pardale  swift,  and  the  Tigre  cruell, 
The  Antelope,  and  Wolfe  both  fiers  and  fell ; 
And  them  constraine  in  equall  teme  to  draw. 
Such  joy  he  had  their  stubborne  harts  to  quell, 
And  sturdie  courage  tame  with  dreadfull  aw, 
That  his  beheast  they  feared  as  a  tyrans  law. 

xxvii.  His  loving  mother  came  upon  a  day 

Unto  the  woodes,  to  see  her  little  sonne; 
And  chaunst  unwares  to  meet  him  in  the  way, 
After  his  sportes  and  cruell  pastime  donne; 
When  after  him  a  Lyonesse  did  runne, 
That  roaring  all  with  rage  did  lowd  requere 
Her  children  deare,  whom  he  away  had  wonne: 
The  Lyon  whelpes  she  saw  how  he  did  beare, 
And  lull  in  rugged  armes  withouten  childish  feare. 

xxviii.  The  fearefull  Dame  all  quaked  at  the  sight, 
And  turning  backe  gan  fast  to  fly  away ; 
Untill,  with  love  revokt  from  vaine  affright, 
She  hardly  yet  perswaded  was  to  stay, 
And  then  to  him  these  womanish  words  gan  say : 
"  Ah  Satyrane,  my  dearling  and  my  joy, 
For  love  of  me  leave  off  this  dreadfull  play; 
To  dally  thus  with  death  is  no  fit  toy : 
Go,  find  some  other  play-fellowes,  mine  own  sweet  boy." 

xxix.  In  these  and  like  delightes  of  bloody  game 
He  trayned  was,  till  ryper  years  he  raught ; 
And  there  abode,  whylst  any  beast  of  name 
Walkt  in  that  forrest,  whom  he  had  not  taught 
To  feare  his  force :  and  then  his  courage  haught 
Desyrd  of  forreine  foemen  to  be  knowne, 
And  far  abroad  for  strange  adventures  sought; 
In  which  his  might  was  never  overthrowne ; 
But  through  al  Faery  lond  his  famous  worth  was  blown. 

xxx.  Yet  evermore  it  was  his  maner  faire, 

After  long  labours  and  adventures  spent, 
Unto  those  native  woods  for  to  repaire, 

86  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  see  his  syre  and  ofspring  auncient. 

And  now  he  thither  came  for  like  intent ; 

Where  he  unwares  the  fairest  Una  found, 

Straunge  Lady  in  so  straunge  habiliment, 

Teaching  the  Satyres,  which  her  sat  around, 

Trew  sacred  lore,  which  from  her  sweet  lips  did  redound. 

xxxi.  He  wondred  at  her  wisedome  hevenly  rare, 
Whose  like  in  womens  witt  he  never  knew ; 
And,  when  her  curteous  deeds  he  did  compare, 
Gan  her  admire,  and  her  sad  sorrowes  rew, 
Blaming  of  Fortune,  which  such  troubles  threw, 
And  joyd  to  make  proofe  of  her  cruelty 
On  gentle  Dame,  so  hurtlesse  and  so  trew: 
Thenceforth  he  kept  her  goodly  company, 
And  learnd  her  discipline  of  faith  and  verity. 

xxxii.  But  she,  all  vowd  unto  the  Redcrosse  Knight, 
His  wandring  perill  closely  did  lament, 
Ne  in  this  new  acquaintaunce  could  delight; 
But  her  deare  heart  with  anguish  did  torment, 
And  all  her  witt  in  secret  counsels  spent, 
How  to  escape.     At  last  in  privy  wise 
To  Satyrane  she  shewed  her  intent ; 
Who,  glad  to  gain  such  favour,  gan  devise, 
How  with  that  pensive  Maid  he  best  might  thence  arise. 

xxxiii.  So  on  a  day,  when  Satyres  all  were  gone 
To  do  their  service  to  Sylvanus  old, 
The  gentle  virgin,  left  behinde  alone, 
He  led  away  with  corage  stout  and  bold. 
Too  late  it  was  to  Satyres  to  be  told, 
Or  ever  hope  recover  her  againe : 
In  vaine  he  seekes  that  having  cannot  hold. 
So  fast  he  carried  her  with  carefull  paine, 
That  they  the  woods  are  past,  and  come  now  to  the 

xxxiv.  The  better  part  now  of  the  lingring  day 

They  traveild  had,  whenas  they  far  espide 
A  weary  wight  f orwandring  by  the  way ; 
And  towards  him  they  gan  in  haste  to  ride, 
To  weete  of  newes  that  did  abroad  betide, 
Or  tidings  of  her  knight  of  the  Redcrosse; 

Book  I — Canto  VI 


But  he  them  spying  gan  to  turne  aside  ' 

For  feare,  as  seemd,  or  for  some  feigned  losse: 

More  greedy  they  of  newes  fast  towards  him  do  crosse. 

xxxv.  A  silly  man,  in  simple  weeds  forworne, 

And  soild  with  dust  of  the  long  dried  way; 

His  sandales  were  with  toilsome  travell  torne, 

And  face  all  tand  with  scorching  sunny  ray, 

As  he  had  traveild  many  a  sommers  day 

Through  boyling  sands  of  Arabie  and  Ynde, 

And  in  his  hand  a  Jacobs  stafle,  to  stay 

His  weary  limbs  upon;  and  eke  behind 

His  scrip  did  hang,  in  which  his  needments  he  did  bind. 

xxxvi.  The  knight,  approching  nigh,  of  him  inquerd 
Tidings  of  warre,  and  of  adventures  new; 
But  warres,  nor  new  adventures,  none  he  herd. 
Then  Una  gan  to  aske,  if  ought  he  knew, 
Or  heard  abroad  of  that  her  champion  trew, 
That  in  his  armour  bare  a  croslet  red  ? 
"  Ay  me!  Deare  dame/'  (quoth  he)  "  well  may  I  rew 
To  tell  the  sad  sight  which  mine  eies  have  red ; 
These  eies  did  see  that  knight  both  living  and  eke  ded." 

xxxvii.  That  cruell  word  her  tender  hart  so  thrild, 

That  suddein  cold  did  ronne  through  every  vaine, 

And  stony  horrour  all  her  sences  fild 

With  dying  fitt,  that  downe  she  fell  for  paine. 

The  knight  her  lightly  reared  up  againe, 

And  comforted  with  curteous  kind  reliefer 

Then,  wonne  from  death,  she  bad  him  tellen  plaine 

The  further  processe  of  her  hidden  griefe : 

The  lesser  pangs  can  beare  who  had  endur'd  the  chief. 

xxxvui.  Then  gan  the  Pilgrim  thus:   "  I  chaunst  this  day, 
This  fatall  day  that  shall  I  ever  rew, 
To  see  two  knights,  in  travell  on  my  way, 
(A  sory  sight)  arraung'd  in  batteill  new, 
Both  breathing  vengeaunce,  both  of  wrathfull  hew. 
My  feareful  flesh  did  tremble  at  their  strife, 
To  see  their  blades  so  greedily  imbrew, 
That,  dronke  with  blood,  yet  thristed  after  life: 
What  more?    the  Redcrosse  knight  was  slain  with 
Paynim  knife. " 

88  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  "  Ah !  dearest  Lord/'  (quoth  she) "  how  might  that  bee, 
And  he  the  stoutest  knight  that  ever  wonne?  " 
"  Ah !  dearest  dame/'  (quoth  hee)  "  how  might  I  see 
The  thing  that  might  not  be,  and  yet  was  donne?  " 
"  Where  is,"  (said  Satyrane)  "  that  Paynims  sonne, 
That  him  of  life,  and  us  of  joy,  hath  refte?  " 
11  Not  far  away,"  (quoth  he)  "  he  hence  doth  wonne, 
Foreby  a  fountaine,  where  I  late  him  lefte 
Washing  his  bloody  wounds,  that  through  the  steel 
were  cleft." 

XL.  Therewith  the  knight  thence  marched  forth  in  hast, 
Whiles  Una,  with  huge  heavinesse  opprest, 
Could  not  for  sorrow  follow  him  so  fast; 
And  soone  he  came,  as  he  the  place  had  ghest, 
Whereas  that  Pagan  proud  him  selfe  did  rest 
In  secret  shadow  by  a  fountaine  side : 
Even  he  it  was,  that  earst  would  have  supprest 
Faire  Una;  whom  when  Satyrane  espide, 
With  foule  reprochfull  words  he  boldly  him  dende. 

xli.  And  said;  "  Arise,  thou  cursed  Miscreaunt, 

That  hast  with  knightlesse  guile,  and  trecherous  train, 
Faire  knighthood  fowly  shamed,  and  doest  vaunt 
That  good  knight  of  the  Redcrosse  to  have  slain: 
Arise,  and  with  like  treason  now  maintain 
The  guilty  wrong,  or  els  thee  guilty  yield." 
The  Sarazin,  this  hearing,  rose  amain, 
And,  catching  up  in  hast  his  three-square  shield 
And  shining  helmet,  soone  him  buckled  to  the  field. 

xlii.  And,  drawing  nigh  him,  said;  "  Ah!  misborn  Elfe, 
In  evill  houre  thy  foes  thee  hither  sent 
Anothers  wrongs  to  wreak  upon  thy  selfe : 
Yet  ill  thou  blamest  me  for  having  blent 
My  name  with  guile  and  traiterous  intent: 
That  Redcrosse  knight,  perdie,  I  never  slew ; 
But  had  he  beene  where  earst  his  armes  were  lent, 
Th'  enchaunter  vaine  his  errour  should  not  rew: 
But  thou  his  errour  shalt,  I  hope,  now  proven  trew." 

XLin.  Therewith  they  gan,  both  furious  and  fell, 
To  thunder  blowes,  and  fiersly  to  assaile 

Book  I — Canto  VI  89 

Each  other,  bent  his  enimy  to  quell, 

That  with  their  force,  they  perst  both  plate  and  maile, 

And  made  wide  furrowes  in  their  fleshes  fraile, 

That  it  would  pitty  any  living  eie. 

Large  floods  of  blood  adowne  their  sides  did  raile, 

But  floods  of  blood  could  not  them  satisfie: 

Both  hongred  after  death;  both  chose  to  win,  or  die. 

xliv.  So  long  they  fight,  and  full  revenge  pursue, 

That,  fainting,  each  themselves  to  breathen  lett, 
And,  ofte  refreshed,  battell  oft  renue. 
As  when  two  Bores,  with  rancling  malice  mett, 
Their  gory  sides  fresh  bleeding  fiercely  frett; 
Til  breathlesse  both  themselves  aside  retire, 
Where  foming  wrath  their  cruell  tuskes  they  whett, 
And  trample  th'  earth,  the  whiles  they  may  respire, 
Then  backe  to  fight  againe,  new  breathed  and  entire. 

xlv.  So  fiersly,  when  these  knights  had  breathed  once, 
They  gan  to  fight  retourne,  increasing  more 
Their  puissant  force,  and  cruell  rage  attonce, 
With  heaped  strokes  more  hugely  then  before ; 
That  with  their  drery  wounds,  and  bloody  gore, 
They  both,  deformed,  scarsely  could  bee  known. 
By  this,  sad  Una  fraught  with  anguish  sore, 
Led  with  their  noise  which  through  the  aire  was  thrown, 
Arriv'd  wher  they  in  erth  their  fruitles  blood  had  sown. 

xlvi.  Whom  all  so  soone  as  that  proud  Sarazin 
Espide,  he  gan  revive  the  memory 
Of  his  leud  lusts,  and  late  attempted  sin, 
And  lefte  the  doubtfull  battell  hastily, 
To  catch  her,  newly  oflred  to  his  eie ; 
But  Satyrane,  with  strokes  him  turning,  staid, 
And  sternely  bad  him  other  businesse  plie 
Then  hunt  the  steps  of  pure  unspotted  Maid : 
Wherewith  he  al  enrag'd  these  bitter  speaches  said. 

xlvii.  "  0  foolish  faeries  sonne !  what  fury  mad 

Hath  thee  incenst  to  hast  thy  dolefull  fate  ? 
Were  it  not  better  I  that  Lady  had 
Then  that  thou  hadst  repented  it  too  late  ? 
Most  sencelesse  man  he,  that  himselfe  doth  hate, 

yo  ^he  Faerie  Queene 

To  love  another :   Lo !  then,  for  thine  ayd, 

Here  take  thy  lovers  token  on  thy  pate." 

So  they  to  fight;  the  whiles  the  royall  Mayd 

Fledd  farre  away,  of  that  proud  Paynim  sore  afrayd. 

xl viii.  But  that  false  Pilgrim,  which  that  leasing  told, 
Being  in  deed  old  Archimage,  did  stay 
In  secret  shadow  all  this  to  behold ; 
And  much  rejoyced  in  their  bloody  fray: 
But,  when  he  saw  the  Damsell  passe  away, 
He  left  his  stond,  and  her  pursewd  apace, 
In  hope  to  bring  her  to  her  last  decay. 
But  for  to  tell  her  lamentable  cace, 
And  eke  this  battels  end,  will  need  another  place* 

Book  I — Canto  Vll  91 


The  Redcrosse  knight  is  captive  made 
By  Tyaunt  proud  opprest: 
Prince  Arthure  meets  with  Una  great- 
ly with  those  newes  distrest. 

I.  What  man  so  wise,  what  earthly  witt  so  ware, 
As  to  discry  the  crafty  cunning  traine, 
By  which  deceipt  doth  maske  in  visour  faire, 
And  cast  her  coulours,  died  deepe  in  graine, 
To  seeme  like  truth,  whose  shape  she  well  can  faine, 
And  fitting  gestures  to  her  purpose  frame, 
The  guiltlesse  man  with  guile  to  entertaine  ? 
Great  maistresse  of  her  art  was  that  false  Dame, 
The  false  Duessa,  cloked  with  Fidessaes  name. 

11.  Who  when,  returning  from  the  drery  Night, 
She  fownd  not  in  that  perilous  hous  of  Pryde, 
Where  she  had  left  the  noble  Redcrosse  knight, 
Her  hoped  pray,  she  would  no  lenger  byde, 
But  forth  she  went  to  seeke  him  far  and  wide* 
Ere  long  she  fownd,  whereas  he  wearie  sate 
To  reste  him  selfe  foreby  a  fountaine  syde, 
Disarmed  all  of  yron-coted  Plate ; 
And  by  his  side  his  steed  the  grassy  forage  ate. 

in.  Hee  feedes  upon  the  cooling  shade,  and  bayes 
His  sweatie  forehead  in  the  breathing  wynd, 
Which  through  the  trembling  leaves  full  gently  playes, 
Wherein  the  chearefull  birds  of  sundry  kynd 
Doe  chaunt  sweet  musick  to  delight  his  mynd. 
The  witch  approching  gan  him  fayrely  greet, 
And  with  reproch  of  carelesnes  unkynd 
Upbrayd,  for  leaving  her  in  place  unmeet, 
With  fowle  words  tempring  faire,  soure  gall  with  hony 

iv.  Unkindnesse  past,  they  gan  of  solace  treat, 
And  bathe  in  pleasaunce  of  the  joyous  shade, 

92  The  Faerie  Queene 

Which  shielded  them  against  the  boyling  heat, 
And  with  greene  boughes  decking  a  gloomy  glade, 
About  the  fountaine  like  a  girlond  made ; 
Whose  bubbling  wave  did  ever  freshly  well, 
Ne  ever  would  through  fervent  sommer  fade : 
The  sacred  Nymph,  which  therein  wont  to  dwell, 
Was  out  of  Dianes  favor,  as  it  then  befell. 

v.  The  cause  was  this:  one  day,  when  Phcebe  fayre 
With  all  her  band  was  following  the  chace, 
This  nymph,  quite  tyr'd  with  heat  of  scorching  ayre, 
Satt  downe  to  rest  in  middest  of  the  race : 
The  goddesse  wroth  gan  fowly  her  disgrace, 
And  badd  the  waters,  which  from  her  did  flow, 
Be  such  as  she  her  selfe  was  then  in  place. 
Thenceforth  her  waters  wexed  dull  and  slow, 
And  all  that  drinke  thereof  do  faint  and  feeble  grow. 

vi.  Hereof  this  gentle  knight  unweeting  was ; 
And  lying  downe  upon  the  sandie  graile, 
Dronke  of  the  streame,  as  cleare  as  christall  glas: 
Eftsoones  his  manly  forces  gan  to  fayle, 
And  mightie  strong  was  turnd  to  feeble  frayle. 
His  chaunged  powres  at  first  them  selves  not  felt; 
Till  crudled  cold  his  corage  gan  assayle, 
And  cheareful  blood  in  fayntnes  chill  did  melt, 
Which  like  a  fever  fit  through  all  his  bodie  swelt. 

vii.  Yet  goodly  court  he  made  still  to  his  Dame, 
Pourd  out  in  loosnesse  on  the  grassy  grownd, 
Both  careless  of  his  health,  and  of  his  fame; 
Till  at  the  last  he  heard  a  dreadfull  sownd, 
Which  through  the  wood  loud  bellowing  did  rebownd, 
That  all  the  earth  for  terror  seemd  to  shake, 
And  trees  did  tremble.     Th'  Elfe,  therewith  astownd, 
Upstarted  lightly  from  his  looser  make, 
And  his  unready  weapons  gan  in  hand  to  take. 

viii.  But  ere  he  could  his  armour  on  him  dight, 
Or  gett  his  shield,  his  monstrous  enimy 
With  sturdie  steps  came  stalking  in  his  sight, 
An  hideous  Geaunt,  horrible  and  hye, 
That  with  his  tallnesse  seemd  to  threat  the  skve : 

Book  I — Canto  VII  93 

The  ground  eke  groned  under  him  for  dreed: 

His  living  like  saw  never  living  eye, 

Ne  durst  behold:  his  stature  did  exceed 

The  hight  of  three  the  tallest  sonnes  of  mortall  seed 

ix.  The  greatest  Earth  his  uncouth  mother  was, 
And  blustring  ^Eolus  his  boasted  syre; 
Who  with  his  breath,  which  through  the  world  doth  pas, 
Her  hollow  womb  did  secretly  inspyre, 
And  fild  her  hidden  caves  with  stormie  yre, 
That  she  conceiv'd;  and  trebling  the  dew  time 
In  which  the  wombes  of  wemen  doe  expyre, 
Brought  forth  this  monstrous  masse  of  earthly  slyme, 
Puft  up  with  emptie  wynd,  and  fild  with  sinfull  cryme. 

x.  So  growen  great,  through  arrogant  delight 
Of  th'  high  descent  whereof  he  was  yborne, 
And  through  presumption  of  his  matchlesse  might, 
All  other  powres  and  knighthood  he  did  scorne. 
Such  now  he  marcheth  to  this  man  forlorne, 
And  left  to  losse ;  his  stalking  steps  are  stayde 
Upon  a  snaggy  Oke,  which  he  had  torne 
Out  of  his  mothers  bowelles,  and  it  made 
His  mortall  mace,  wherewith  his  foemen  he  dismayde. 

xi.  That,  when  the  knight  he  spyde,  he  gan  advaunce 
With  huge  force  and  insupportable  mayne, 
And  towardes  him  with  dreadfull  fury  praunce; 
Who  haplesse,  and  eke  hopelesse,  all  in  vaine 
Did  to  him  pace  sad  battaile  to  darrayne, 
Disarmd,  disgraste,  and  inwardly  dismayde; 
And  eke  so  faint  in  every  joynt  and  vayne, 
Through  that  fraile  fountain  which  him  feeble  made, 
That  scarsely  could  he  weeld  his  bootlesse  single  blade. 

xii.  The  Geaunt  strooke  so  maynly  mercilesse, 
That  could  have  over  thro  wne  a  stony  towre ; 
And,  were  not  hevenly  grace  that  did  him  blesse, 
He  had  beene  pouldred  all  as  thin  as  flowre: 
But  he  was  wary  of  that  deadly  stowre, 
And  lightly  lept  from  underneath  the  blow: 
Yet  so  exceeding  was  the  villeins  powre, 
That  with  the  winde  it  did  him  overthrow, 
And  all  his  sences  stound  that  still  he  lay  full  low. 

94  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  As  when  that  divelish  yron  Engirt,  wrought 
In  deepest  Hell,  and  framd  by  Furies  skill, 
With  windy  Nitre  and  quick  Sulphur  fraught, 
And  ramd  with  bollet  rownd,  ordaind  to  kill, 
Conceiveth  fyre,  the  heavens  it  doth  fill 
With  thundring  noyse,  and  all  the  ayre  doth  choke, 
That  none  can  breath,  nor  see,  nor  heare  at  will, 
Through  smouldry  cloud  of  duskish  stincking  smoke; 
That  th'  only  breath  him  daunts,  who  hath  escapt  the 

xiv.  So  daunted  when  the  Geaunt  saw  the  knight, 
His  heavie  hand  he  heaved  up  on  hye, 
And  him  to  dust  thought  to  have  battred  quight, 
Untill  Duessa  loud  to  him  gan  crye, 
"  0  great  Orgoglio !  greatest  under  skye, 
0 !  hold  thy  mortall  hand  for  Ladies  sake ; 
Hold  for  my  sake,  and  doe  him  not  to  dye, 
But  vanquisht  thine  eternall  bondslave  make, 
And  me,  thy  worthy  meed,  unto  thy  Leman  take." 

xv.  He  hearkned,  and  did  stay  from  further  harmes, 
To  gayne  so  goodly  guerdon  as  she  spake : 
So  willingly  she  came  into  his  armes, 
Who  her  as  willingly  to  grace  did  take, 
And  was  possessed  of  his  newfound  make, 
Then  up  he  tooke  the  slombred  sencelesse  corse, 
And,  ere  he  could  out  of  his  swowne  awake, 
Him  to  his  castle  brought  with  hastie  forse, 
And  in  a  Dongeon  deepe  him  threw  without  remorse. 

xvi.  From  that  day  forth  Duessa  was  his  deare, 
And  highly  honoured  in  his  haughtie  eye : 
He  gave  her  gold  and  purple  pall  to  weare, 
And  triple  crowne  set  on  her  head  full  hye, 
And  her  endowd  with  royall  majestye. 
Then,  for  to  make  her  dreaded  more  of  men, 
And  peoples  hartes  with  awfull  terror  tye, 
A  monstrous  beast  ybredd  in  filthy  fen' 
He  chose,  which  he  had  kept  long  time  in  darksom  den. 

xvn.  Such  one  it  was,  as  that  renowmed  Snake 
Which  great  Alcides  in  Stremona  slew, 
Long  fostred  in  the  filth  of  Lerna  lake: 

Book  I — Canto  VII  95 

Whose  many  heades,  out  budding  ever  new, 

Did  breed  him  endlesse  labor  to  subdew. 

But  this  same  Monster  much  more  ugly  was, 

For  seven  great  heads  out  of  his  body  grew, 

An  yron  brest,  and  back  of  scaly  bras, 

And  all  embrewd  in  blood  his  eyes  did  shine  as  glas. 

xviii.  His  tayle  was  stretched  out  in  wondrous  length, 
That  to  the  hous  of  hevenly  gods  it  raught: 
And  with  extorted  powre,  and  borrow'd  strength, 
The  everburning  lamps  from  thence  it  braught, 
And  prowdly  threw  to  ground,  as  things  of  naught; 
And  underneath  his  filthy  feet  did  tread 
The  sacred  thinges,  and  holy  heastes  foretaught. 
Upon  this  dreadfull  Beast  with  sevenfold  head 
He  sett  the  false  Duessa,  for  more  aw  and  dread, 

xix.  The  wofull  Dwarfe,  which  saw  his  maisters  fall 
Whiles  he  had  keeping  of  his  grasing  steed, 
And  valiant  knight  become  a  caytive  thrall, 
When  all  was  past,  tooke  up  his  forlorne  weed; 
His  mightie  Armour,  missing  most  at  need; 
His  silver  shield,  now  idle,  maisterlesse; 
His  poynant  speare  that  many  made  to  bleed, 
The  rueful  moniments  of  heavinesse ; 
And  with  them  all  departes  to  tell  his  great  distresse. 

xx.  He  had  not  travaild  long,  when  on  the  way 
He  wofull  Lady,  wofull  Una,  met, 
Fast  flying  from  that  Paynims  greedy  pray, 
Whilest  Satyrane  him  from  pursuit  did  let: 
Who  when  her  eyes  she  on  the  Dwarf  had  set, 
And  saw  the  signes  that  deadly  tydings  spake, 
She  fell  to  ground  for  sorrowfull  regret, 
And  lively  breath  her  sad  brest  did  forsake; 
Yet  might  her  pitteous  hart  be  seene  to  pant  and  quake. 

xxi.  The  messenger  of  so  unhappie  newes 

Would  fame  have  dyde :   dead  was  his  hart  within, 

Yet  outwardly  some  little  comfort  shewes. 

At  last,  recovering  hart,  he  does  begin 

To  nibb  her  temples,  and  to  chaufe  her  chin, 

And  everie  tender  part  does  tosse  and  turne: 

g6  The  Faerie  Queene 

So  hardly  he  the  flitted  life  does  win 

Unto  her  native  prison  to  retourne ; 

Then  gins  her  grieved  ghost  thus  to  lament  and  mourne*. 

xxii.  "  Ye  dreary  instruments  of  dolefull  sight, 
That  doe  this  deadly  spectacle  behold , 
Why  doe  ye  lenger  feed  on  loathed  light, 
Or  liking  find  to  gaze  on  earthly  mould, 
Sith  cruell  fates  the  carefull  threds  unfould, 
The  which  my  life  and  love  together  tyde  ? 
Now  let  the  stony  dart  of  sencelesse  cold 
Perce  to  my  hart,  and  pas  through  everie  side, 
And  let  eternall  night  so  sad  sight  fro  me  hyde. 

xxiii.  "  0  lightsome  day !   the  lampe  of  highest  Jove, 

First  made  by  him  mens  wandring  waves  to  guyde, 
When  darknesse  he  in  deepest  dongeon  drove, 
Henceforth  thy  hated  face  for  ever  hyde, 
And  shut  up  heavens  windowes  shyning  wyde ; 
For  earthly  sight  can  nought  but  sorrow  breed, 
And  late  repentance  which  shall  long  abyde : 
Mine  eyes  no  more  on  vanitie  shall  feed, 
But  seeled  up  with  death  shall  have  their  deadly  meed." 

xxiv.  Then  downe  againe  she  fell  unto  the  ground, 
But  he  her  quickly  reared  up  againe : 
Thrise  did  she  sinke  adowne  in  deadly  swownd, 
And  thrise  he  her  reviv'd  with  busie  paine. 
At  last  when  life  recover'd  had  the  raine, 
And  over-wrestled  his  strong  enimy, 
With  foltring  tong,  and  trembling  everie  vaine, 
"  Tell  on,"  (quoth  she)  "  the  wofull  Tragedy, 
The  which  these  reliques  sad  present  unto  mine  eye. 

xxv.  "  Tempestuous  fortune  hath  spent  all  her  spight, 
And  thrilling  sorrow  throwne  his  utmost  dart: 
Thy  sad  tong  cannot  tell  more  heavy  plight 
Then  that  I  feele,  and  harbour  in  mine  hart: 
WTho  hath  endur'd  the  whole  can  beare  ech  part. 
If  death  it  be,  it  is  not  the  first  wound 
That  launched  hath  my  brest  with  bleeding  smart. 
Begin,  and  end  the  bitter  balefull  stound ; 
If  lesse  then  that  I  feare,  more  favour  I  have  found." 

Book  I — Canto  VII  97 

xxvi.  Then  gan  the  Dwarfe  the  whole  discourse  declare; 
The  subtile  traines  of  Archimago  old ; 
The  wanton  loves  of  false  Fidessa  fayre, 
Bought  with  the  blood  of  vanquisht  Paynim  bold; 
The  wretched  payre  transformd  to  treen  mould; 
The  house  of  Pryde,  and  perilles  round  about; 
The  combat  which  he  with  Sansjoy  did  hould; 
The  lucklesse  conflict  with  the  Gyaunt  stout, 
Wherein  captiv'd,  of  life  or  death  he  stood  in  doubt. 

xxvii.  She  heard  with  patience  all  unto  the  end, 
And  strove  to  maister  sorrowfull  assay, 
Which  greater  grew  the  more  she  did  contend, 
And  almost  rent  her  tender  hart  in  tway ; 
And  love  fresh  coles  unto  her  fire  did  lay; 
For  greater  love,  the  greater  is  the  losse. 
Was  never  Lady  loved  dearer  day 
Then  she  did  love  the  knight  of  the  Redcrosse, 
For  whose  deare  sake  so  many  troubles  her  did  tosse. 

xxviii.  At  last  when  fervent  sorrow  slaked  was, 
She  up  arose,  resolving  him  to  find 
Alive  or  dead;  and  forward  forth  doth  pas, 
All  as  the  Dwarfe  the  way  to  her  assynd ; 
And  evermore,  in  constant  carefull  mind, 
She  fedd  her  wound  with  fresh  renewed  bale. 
Long  tost  with  stormes,  and  bet  with  bitter  wind, 
High  over  hills,  and  lowe  adowne  the  dale, 
She  wandred  many  a  wood,  and  measurd  many  a  vale. 

xxix.  At  last  she  chaunced  by  good  hap  to  meet 
A  goodly  knight,  faire  marching  by  the  way, 
Together  with  his  Squyre,  arayed  meet: 
His  glitterand  armour  shined  far  away, 
Like  glauncing  light  of  Phoebus  brightest  ray; 
From  top  to  toe  no  place  appeared  bare, 
That  deadly  dint  of  Steele  endanger  may. 
Athwart  his  brest  a  bauldrick  brave  he  ware, 
That  shind,  like  twinkling  stars,  with  stones  most 
;  pretious  rare. 

xxx.  And  in  the  midst  thereof  one  pretious  stone 

Of  wondrous  worth,  and  eke  of  wondrous  mights, 
Shapt  like  a  Ladies  head,  exceeding  shone, 

98  The  Faerie  Queene 

Like  Hesperus  emongst  the  lesser  lights, 
And  strove  for  to  amaze  the  weaker  sights: 
Thereby  his  mortall  blade  full  comely  hong 
In  yvory  sheath,  ycarv'd  with  curious  slights, 
Whose  hilts  were  burnisht  gold,  and  handle  strong 
Of  mother  perle ;  and  buckled  with  a  golden  tong. 

xxxi.  His  haughtie  Helmet,  horrid  all  with  gold, 

Both  glorious  brightnesse  and  great  terrour  bredd : 

For  all  the  crest  a  Dragon  did  enfold 

With  greedie  pawes,  and  over  all  did  spredd 

His  golden  winges :  his  dreadfull  hideous  hedd, 

Close  couched  on  the  bever,  seemd  to  throw 

From  flaming  mouth  bright  sparckles  fiery  redd, 

That  suddeine  horrour  to  faint  hartes  did  show ; 

And  scaly  tayle  was  stretcht  adowne  his  back  full  low. 

xxxii.  Upon  the  top  of  all  his  loftie  crest, 

A  bounch  of  heares  discoloured  diversly, 

With  sprincled  pearle  and  gold  full  richly  drest, 

Did  shake,  and  seemd  to  daunce  for  jollity, 

Like  to  an  almond  tree  ymounted  hye 

On  top  of  greene  Selinis  all  alone, 

With  blossoms  brave  bedecked  daintily; 

Whose  tender  locks  do  tremble  every  one 

At  everie  little  breath  that  under  heaven  is  blowne. 

xxxiii.  His  warlike  shield  all  closely  cover'd  was, 
Ne  might  of  mortall  eye  be  ever  seene; 
Not  made  of  Steele,  nor  of  enduring  bras, 
Such  earthly  mettals  soon  consumed  beene, 
But  all  of  Diamond  perfect  pure  and  cleene 
It  framed  was,  one  massy  entire  mould, 
Hewen  out  of  Adamant  rocke  with  engines  keene, 
That  point  of  speare  it  never  percen  could, 
Ne  dint  of  direfull  sword  divide  the  substance  would. 

xxxiv.  The  same  to  wight  he  never  wont  disclose, 

But  whenas  monsters  huge  he  would  dismay, 
Or  daunt  unequall  armies  of  his  foes, 
Or  when  the  flying  heavens  he  would  affray; 
For  so  exceeding  shone  his  glistring  ray, 
That  Phcebus  golden  face  it  did  attaint, 

Book  I — Canto  VII  99 

As  when  a  cloud  his  beames  doth  over-lay; 

And  silver  Cynthia  wexed  pale  and  faynt, 

As  when  her  face  is  staynd  with  magicke  arts  constraint. 

xxxv.  No  magicke  arts  hereof  had  any  might, 

Nor  bloody  wordes  of  bold  Enchaunters  call; 
But  all  that  was  not  such  as  seemd  in  sight 
Before  that  shield  did  fade,  and  suddeine  fall: 
And  when  him  list  the  raskall  routes  appall, 
Men  into  stones  therewith  he  could  transmew, 
And  stones  to  dust,  and  dust  to  nought  at  all; 
And,  when  him  list  the  prouder  lookes  subdew, 
He  would  them  gazing  blind,  or  turne  to  other  hew. 

xxxvi.  Ne  let  it  seeme  that  credence  this  exceedes; 

For  he  that  made  the  same  was  knowne  right  well 
To  have  done  much  more  admirable  deedes. 
It  Merlin  was,  which  whylome  did  excell 
All  living  wightes  in  might  of  magicke  spell : 
Both  shield  and  sword,  and  armour  all  he  wrought 
For  this  young  Prince,  when  first  to  armes  he  fell ; 
But,  when  he  dyde,  the  Faery  Queene  it  brought 
To  Faerie  lond,  where  yet  it  may  be  seene,  if  sought: 

xxxvii.  A  gentle  youth,  his  dearely  loved  Squire, 

His  speare  of  heben  wood  behind  him  bare, 
Whose  harmeful  head,  thrise  heated  in  the  fire, 
Had  riven  many  a  brest  with  pikehead  square: 
A  goodly  person,  and  could  menage  faire 
His  stubborne  steed  with  curbed  canon  bitt, 
Who  under  him  did  trample  as  the  aire, 
And  chauft  that  any  on  his  backe  should  sitt: 
The  yron  rowels  into  frothy  fome  he  bitt. 

xxxvin.  Whenas  this  knight  nigh  to  the  Lady  drew, 
With  lovely  court  he  gan  her  entertaine ; 
But,  when  he  heard  her  answers  loth,  he  knew 
Some  secret  sorrow  did  her  heart  distraine ; 
Which  to  allay,  and  calme  her  storming  paine, 
Faire  feeling  words  he  wisely  gan  display, 
And  for  her  humor  fitting  purpose  faine, 
To  tempt  the  cause  it  selfe  for  to  bewray, 
Wherewith  enmovd,  these  bleeding  words  she  gan  to  say. 

ioo  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  "  What  worlds  delight,  or  joy  of  living  speach,. 
Can  hart,  so  plungd  in  sea  of  sorrowes  deep, 
And  heaped  with  so  huge  misfortunes,  reach? 
The  carefull  cold  beginneth  for  to  creep, 
And  in  my  heart  his  yron  arrow  steep, 
Soone  as  I  thinke  upon  my  bitter  bale. 
Such  helplesse  harmes  yts  better  hidden  keep, 
Then  rip  up  griefe  where  it  may  not  availe : 
My  last  left  comfort  is  my  woes  to  weepe  and  waile." 

xl.  "  Ah  Lady  deare,"  quoth  then  the  gentle  knight, 
"  Well  may  I  ween  your  griefe  is  wondrous  great; 
For  wondrous  great  griefe  groneth  in  my  spright, 
Whiles  thus  I  heare  you  of  your  sorrowes  treat. 
But,  woefull  Lady,  let  me  you  intrete, 
For  to  unfold  the  anguish  of  your  hart: 
Mishaps  are  maistred  by  advice  discrete, 
And  counsell  mitigates  the  greatest  smart: 
Found  never  help  who  never  would  his  hurts  impart/ f 

xli.  "  0  but,"  (quoth  she)  "  great  greife  will  not  be  tould, 
And  can  more  easily  be  thought  then  said." 
"  Right  so,"  (quoth  he)  "  but  he  that  never  would 
Could  never:  will  to  might  gives  greatest  aid." 
"  But  griefe/'  (quoth  she)  "  does  greater  grow  displaid, 
If  then  it  find  not  helpe,  and  breeds  despaire." 
"  Despaire  breeds  not,"  (quoth  he)  "  where  faith  is  staid." 
"  No  faith  so  fast,"  (quoth  she)  "  but  flesh  does  paire." 
"  Flesh  may  empaire,"  (quoth he) "  but  reason  can  repaire." 

xlii.  His  goodly  reason,  and  well  guided  speach, 
So  deepe  did  settle  in  her  gracious  thought, 
That  her  perswaded  to  disclose  the  breach 
Which  love  and  fortune  in  her  heart  had  wrought ; 
And  said;  "  Faire  Sir,  I  hope  good  hap  hath  brought 
You  to  inquere  the  secrets  of  my  griefe, 
Or  that  your  wisedome  will  direct  my  thought, 
Or  that  your  prowesse  can  me  yield  relief e : 
Then,  heare  the  story  sad,  which  I  shall  tell  you  briefe. 

xliii.  "  The  forlorne  Maiden,  whom  your  eies  have  seene 
The  laughing  stocke  of  fortunes  mockeries, 
Am  th'  onely  daughter  of  a  King  and  Queene, 

Book  I — Canto  VII  101 

Whose  parents  deare,  whiles  equal  destinies 

Did  ronne  about,  and  their  felicities 

The  favourable  heavens  did  not  envy, 

Did  spred  their  rule  through  all  the  territories, 

Which  Phison  and  Euphrates  floweth  by, 

And  Gehons  golden  waves  doe  wash  continually: 

xliv.  "  Till  that  their  cruell  cursed  enemy, 

An  huge  great  Dragon,  horrible  in  sight, 

Bred  in  the  loathly  lakes  of  Tartary, 

With  murdrous  ravine,  and  devouring  might, 

Their  kingdome  spoild,  and  countrey  wasted  quight: 

Themselves,  for  feare  into  his  jawes  to  fall, 

He  forst  to  castle  strong  to  take  their  flight; 

Where,  fast  embard  in  mighty  brasen  wall, 

He  has  them  now  fowr  years  besieged  to  make  them  thrall. 

xlv.  "  Full  many  knights,  adventurous  and  stout, 
Have  enterpriz'd  that  Monster  to  subdew: 
From  every  coast  that  heaven  walks  about 
Have  thither  come  the  noble  Martial  crew. 
That  famous  harde  atchievements  still  pursew; 
Yet  never  any  could  that  girlond  win, 
But  all  still  shronke,  and  still  he  greater  grew: 
All  they,  for  want  of  faith,  or  guilt  of  sin, 
The  pitteous  pray  of  his  fiers  cruelty  have  bin. 

xlvi.  u  At  last,  yled  with  far  reported  praise, 

Which  flying  fame  throughout  the  world  had  spred, 

Of  doughty  knights,  whom  Faery  land  did  raise, 

That  noble  order  hight  of  maidenhed, 

Forthwith  to  court  of  Gloriane  I  sped, 

Of  Gloriane,  great  Queene  of  glory  bright, 

Whose  kingdomes  seat  Cleopolis  is  red ; 

There  to  obtaine  some  such  redoubted  knight, 

That  Parents  deare  from  tyrants  powre  deliver  might. 

xl vii.  "  Yt  was  my  chaunce  (my  chaunce  was  faire  and  good) 
There  for  to  find  a  fresh  unproved  knight; 
Whose  manly  hands  imbrewd  in  guilty  blood 
Had  never  beene,  ne  ever  by  his  might 
Had  throwne  to  ground  the  unregarded  right: 
Yet  of  his  prowesse  proofe  he  since  hath  made 

io2  The  Faerie  Queene 

(I  witnes  am)  in  many  a  cruell  fight ; 
The  groning  ghosts  of  many  one  dismaide 
Have  felt  the  bitter  dint  of  his  avenging  blade. 

xlviii.  "  An  ye,  the  forlorne  reliques  of  his  powre, 
His  biting  sword,  and  his  devouring  speare, 
Which  have  endured  many  a  dreadful  stowre, 
Can  speake  his  prowesse  that  did  earst  you  beare, 
And  well  could  rule ;  now  he  hath  left  you  heare 
To  be  the  record  of  his  ruefull  losse, 
And  of  my  dolefull  disaventurous  deare. 
0 !  heavie  record  of  the  good  Redcrosse, 
Where  have  yee  left  your  lord  that  could  so  well  you 

xlix.  "  Well  hoped  I,  and  faire  beginnings  had, 

That  he  my  captive  langour  should  redeemer 

Till,  all  unweeting,  an  Enchaunter  bad 

His  sence  abused,  and  made  him  to  misdeeme 

My  loyalty,  not  such  as  it  did  seeme, 

That  rather  death  desire  then  such  despight. 

Be  judge,  ye  heavens,  that  all  things  right  esteeme, 

How  I  him  lov'd,  and  love  with  all  my  might. 

So  thought  I  eke  of  him,  and  think  I  thought  aright. 

L.  "  Thenceforth  me  desolate  he  quite  forsooke, 
To  wander  where  wilde  fortune  would  me  lead, 
And  other  bywaies  he  himselfe  betooke, 
Where  never  foote  of  living  wight  did  tread, 
That  brought  not  backe  the  balefull  body  dead: 
In  which  him  chaunced  false  Duessa  meete, 
Mine  onely  foe,  mine  onely  deadly  dread; 
Who  with  her  witchcraft,  and  misseeming  sweete, 
Inveigled  him  to  follow  her  desires  unmeete. 

Li.  "  At  last,  by  subtile  sleights  she  him  betraid 
Unto  his  foe,  a  Gyaunt  huge  and  tall; 
Who  him  disarmed,  dissolute,  dismaid, 
Unwares  surprised,  and  with  mighty  mall 
The  monster  mercilesse  him  made  to  fail, 
Whose  fall  did  never  foe  before  behold  : 
And  now  in  darkesome  dungeon,  wretched  thrall, 
Remedilesse  for  aie  he  doth  him  hold. 
This  is  my  cause  of  grief e,  more  great  then  may  be  told." 

Book  I — Canto  VII  103 

lii.  Ere  she  had  ended  all  she  gan  to  faint: 
But  he  her  comforted,  and  faire  bespake: 
"  Certes,  Madame,  ye  have  great  cause  of  plaint; 
That  stoutest  heart,  I  weene,  could  cause  to  quake: 
But  be  of  cheare,  and  comfort  to  you  take; 
For  till  I  have  acquitt  your  captive  knight, 
Assure  your  selfe  I  will  you  not  forsake." 
His  chearefull  words  reviv'd  her  chearelesse  spright, 
So  forth  they  went,  the  Dwarfe  them  guiding  ever  right 

104  The  Faerie  Queene 


Faire  virgin,  to  redeeme  her  deare, 
Brings  Arthure  to  the  fight : 
Who  slayes  the  Gyaunt,  wounds  the  beast, 
And  strips  Duessa  quight. 

I.  Ay  me !  how  many  perils  doe  enfold 
The  righteous  man,  to  make  him  daily  fall, 
Were  not  that  heavenly  grace  doth  him  uphold, 
And  stedfast  truth  acquite  him  out  of  all. 
Her  love  is  flrme,  her  care  continuall, 
So  oft  as  he,  through  his  own  foolish  pride 
Or  weakness,  is  to  sinfull  bands  made  thrall : 
Els  should  this  Redcrosse  knight  in  bands  have  dyde, 
For  whose  deliverance  she  this  Prince  doth  thither  guyd. 

ii.  They  sadly  traveild  thus,  untill  they  came 
Nigh  to  a  castle  builded  strong  and  hye : 
Then  cryde  the  Dwarfe,  "  Lo !  yonder  is  the  same, 
In  which  my  Lord,  my  liege,  doth  lucklesse  ly 
Thrall  to  that  Gyaunts  hatefull  tyranny : 
Therefore,  deare  Sir,  your  mightie  powres  assay." 
The  noble  knight  alighted  by  and  by 
From  loftie  steed,  and  badd  the  Ladie  stay, 
To  see  what  end  of  fight  should  him  befall  that  day. 

in.  So  with  his  Squire,  th'  admirer  of  his  might, 
He  marched  forth  towardes  that  castle  wall, 
Whose  gates  he  fownd  fast  shutt,  ne  living  wight 
To  warde  the  same,  nor  answere  commers  call. 
Then  tooke  that  Squire  an  home  of  bugle  small, 
W^hich  hong  adowne  his  side  in  twisted  gold 
And  tasselles  gay.     Wyde  wonders  over  all 
Of  that  same  homes  great  virtues  weren  told, 
Which  had  approved  bene  in  uses  manifold. 

rv.  Was  never  wight  that  heard  that  shrilling  sownd, 
But  trembling  feare  did  feel  in  every  vaine : 
Three  miles  it  might  be  easy  heard  arownd, 

Book  I — Canto  VIII  105 

And  Ecchoes  three  aunswer'd  it  selfe  againe: 

No  false  enchauntment,  nor  deceiptfull  traine, 

Might  once  abide  the  terror  of  that  blast, 

But  presently  was  void  and  wholly  vaine: 

No  gate  so  strong,  no  locke  so  firme  and  fast, 

But  with  that  percing  noise  flew  open  quite,  or  brast. 

v.  The  same  before  the  Geaunts  gate  he  blew, 
That  all  the  castle  quaked  from  the  grownd, 
And  every  dore  of  freewill  open  flew. 
The  Gyaunt  selfe,  dismaied  with  that  sownd, 
Where  he  with  his  Duessa  dalliaunce  fownd, 
In  hast  came  rushing  forth  from  inner  bowre, 
With  staring  countenance  sterne,  as  one  astownd, 
And  staggering  steps,  to  weet  what  suddein  stowre 
Had  wrought  that  horror  strange,  and  dar'd  his  dreaded 

vi.  And  after  him  the  proud  Duessa  came, 
High  mounted  on  her  many  headed  beast, 
And  every  head  with  fyrie  tongue  did  flame, 
And  every  head  was  crowned  on  his  creast, 
And  bloody  mouthed  with  late  cruell  feast. 
That  when  the  knight  beheld,  his  mightie  shild 
Upon  his  manly  arme  he  soone  addrest, 
And  at  him  fiersly  flew,  with  corage  fild, 
And  eger  greedinesse  through  every  member  thrild. 

vii.  Therewith  the  Gyant  buckled  him  to  fight, 

Inflamd  with  scornefull  wrath  and  high  disdaine, 

And  lifting  up  his  dreadfull  club  on  hight, 

All  armd  with  ragged  snubbes  and  knottie  graine, 

Him  thought  at  first  encounter  to  have  slaine. 

But  wise  and  wary  was  that  noble  Pere; 

And,  lightly  leaping  from  so  monstrous  maine, 

Did  fayre  avoide  the  violence  him  nere: 

It  booted  nought  to  thinke  such  thunderbolts  to  beare. 

viii.  Ne  shame  he  thought  to  shonne  so  hideous  might: 
The  ydle  stroke,  enforcing  furious  way, 
Missing  the  marke  of  his  misaymed  sight, 
Did  fall  to  ground,  and  with  his  heavy  sway 
So  deepely  dinted  in  the  driven  clay, 
That  three  yardes  deepe  a  furrow  up  did  throw. 

106  The  Faerie  Queene 

The  sad  earth,  wounded  with  so  sore  assay, 
Did  grone  full  grievous  underneath  the  blow, 
And  trembling  with  strange  feare  did  like  an  erthquake 

IX.  As  when  almightie  Jove,  in  wrathfull  mood, 
To  wreake  the  guilt  of  mortall  sins  is  bent, 
Hurles  forth  his  thundring  dart  with  deadly  food 
Enrold  in  flames,  and  smouldring  dreriment, 
Through  riven  cloudes  and  molten  firmament; 
The  fiers  threeforked  engin,  making  way, 
Both  loftie  towres  and  highest  trees  hath  rent, 
And  all  that  might  his  angry  passage  stay ; 
And,  shooting  in  the  earth,  castes  up  a  mount  of  clay. 

X.  His  boystrous  club,  so  buried  in  the  grownd, 
He  could  not  rearen  up  againe  so  light, 
But  that  the  Knight  him  at  advantage  fownd ; 
And,  whiles  he  strove  his  combred  clubbe  to  quight 
Out  of  the  earth,  with  blade  all  burning  bright 
He  smott  off  his  left  arme,  which  like  a  block 
Did  fall  to  ground,  depriv'd  of  native  might: 
Large  streames  of  blood  out  of  the  truncked  stock 
Forth  gushed,  like  fresh  water  streame  from  riven  rocke. 

xi.  Dismayed  with  so  desperate  deadly  wound, 
And  eke  impatient  of  unwonted  payne, 
He  loudly  brayd  with  beastly  yelling  sownd, 
That  all  the  fieldes  rebellowed  againe. 
As  great  a  noyse,  as  when  in  Cymbrian  plaine 
An  heard  of  Bulles,  whom  kindly  rage  doth  sting, 
Doe  for  the  milky  mothers  want  complaine, 
And  fill  the  fieldes  with  troublous  bellowing: 
The  neighbor  woods  arownd  with  hollow  murmur  ring. 

xn.  That  when  his  deare  Duessa  heard,  and  saw 
The  evil  stownd  that  daungerd  her  estate, 
Unto  his  aide  she  hastily  did  draw 
Her  dreadfull  beast;  who,  swolne  with  blood  of  late, 
Came  ramping  forth  with  proud  presumpteous  gate, 
And  threatned  all  his  heades  like  flaming  brandes, 
But  him  the  Squire  made  quickly  to  retrate, 
Encountring  fiers  with  single  sword  in  hand ; 
And  twixt  him  and  his  Lord  did  like  a  bulwarke  stand. 

Book  I — Canto  VIII  107 

xiii.  The  proud  Duessa,  full  of  wrathfull  spight, 
And  fiers  disdaine  to  be  affronted  so, 
Enforst  her  purple  beast  with  all  her  might, 
That  stop  out  of  the  way  to  overthroe, 
Scorning  the  let  of  so  unequall  foe : 
But  nathemore  would  that  corageous  swayne 
To  her  yeeld  passage  gainst  his  Lord  to  goe, 
But  with  outrageous  strokes  did  him  restraine, 
And  with  his  body  bard  the  way  atwixt  them  twaine. 

xiv.  Then  tooke  the  angrie  witch  her  golden  cup, 
Which  still  she  bore,  replete  with  magick  artes; 
Death  and  despeyre  did  many  thereof  sup, 
And  secret  poyson  through  their  inner  partes, 
Th'  eternall  bale  of  heavie  wounded  harts : 
Which,  after  charmes  and  some  enchauntments  said, 
She  lightly  sprinkled  on  his  weaker  partes: 
Therewith  his  sturdie  corage  soon  was  quayd, 
And  all  his  sences  were  with  suddein  dread  dismayd. 

xv.  So  downe  he  fell  before  the  cruell  beast, 

Who  on  his  neck  his  bloody  clawes  did  seize,  ■ 

That  life  nigh  crush t  out  of  his  panting  brest: 

No  powre  he  had  to  stirre,  nor  will  to  rize. 

That  when  the  carefull  knight  gan  well  avise, 

He  lightly  left  the  foe  with  whom  he  fought, 

And  to  the  beast  gan  turne  his  enterprise ; 

For  wondrous  anguish  in  his  hart  it  wrought, 

To  see  his  loved  Squyre  into  such  thraldom  brought : 

xvi.  And,  high  advauncing  his  blood-thirstie  blade, 
Stroke  one  of  those  deformed  heades  so  sore, 
That  of  his  puissaunce  proud  ensample  made : 
His  monstrous  scalpe  downe  to  his  teeth  it  tore, 
And  that  misformed  shape  misshaped  more. 
A  sea  of  blood  gusht  from  the  gaping  wownd, 
That  her  gay  garments  staynd  with  filthy  gore, 
And  overflowed  all  the  field  arownd, 
That  over  shoes  in  blood  he  waded  on  the  grownd. 

xvii.  Thereat  he  rored  for  exceeding  paine, 

That  to  have  heard  great  horror  would  have  bred ; 
And  scourging  th'  emptie  ay  re  with  his  long  trayne, 

io8  The  Faerie  Queene 

Through  great  impatience  of  his  grieved  hed, 

His  gorgeous  ryder  from  her  loftie  sted 

Would  have  cast  downe,  and  trodd  in  durty  myre, 

Had  not  the  Gyaunt  soone  her  succoured ; 

Who,  all  enrag'd  with  smart  and  frantick  yre, 

Came  hurtling  in  full  fiers,  and  forst  the  knight  retyre. 

xviii.  The  force,  which  wont  in  two  to  be  disperst, 
In  one  alone  left  hand  he  now  unites, 
Which  is  through  rage  more  strong  then  both  were  erst; 
WTith  which  his  hideous  club  aloft  he  dites, 
And  at  his  foe  with  furious  rigor  smites, 
That  strongest  Oake  might  seeme  to  overthrow* 
The  stroke  upon  his  shield  so  heavie  lites, 
That  to  the  ground  it  double th  him  full  low : 
What  mortall  wight  could  ever  beare  so  monstrous  blow  ? 

xix.  And  in  his  fall  his  shield,  that  covered  was, 
Did  loose  his  vele  by  chaunce,  and  open  flew; 
The  light  whereof,  that  hevens  light  did  pas, 
Such  blazing  brightnesse  through  the  ayer  threw, 
That  eye  mote  not  the  same  endure  to  vew. 
Which  when  the  Gyaunt  spyde  with  staring  eye, 
He  downe  let  fall  his  arme,  and  soft  withdrew 
His  weapon  huge,  that  heaved  was  on  hye 
For  to  have  slain  the  man,  that  on  the  ground  did  lye. 

xx.  And  eke  the  fruitfull-headed  beast,  amazd 
At  flashing  beames  of  that  sunshiny  shield, 
Became  stark  blind,  and  all  his  sences  dazd, 
That  downe  he  tumbled  on  the  durtie  field, 
And  seemd  himselfe  as  conquered  to  yield. 
Whom  when  his  maistresse  proud  perceiv'd  to  fall, 
Whiles  yet  his  feeble  feet  for  faintnesse  reeld, 
Unto  the  Gyaunt  lowdly  she  gan  call; 
"  0!  helpe,  Orgoglio;  helpe!  or  els  we  perish  all." 

xxi.  At  her  so  pitteous  cry  was  much  amoov'd 

Her  champion  stout;  and  for  to  ayde  his  frend, 

Againe  his  wonted  angry  weapon  proov'd, 

But  all  in  vaine,  for  he  has  redd  his  end 

In  that  bright  shield,  and  all  their  forces  spend 

Them  selves  in  vaine :  for,  since  that  glauncing  sight, 

Book  1 — Canto  VIII  109 

lie  hath  no  powre  to  hurt,  nor  to  defend. 

As  where  th'  Almighties  lightning  brond  does  light, 

It  dimmes  the  dazed  eyen,  and  daunts  thesencesquight. 

xxii.  Whom  when  the  Prince,  to  batteill  new  addrest 
And  threatning  high  his  dreadfull  stroke,  did  see, 
His  sparkling  blade  about  his  head  he  blest, 
And  smote  off  quite  his  right  leg  by  the  knee, 
That  downe  he  tombled ;  as  an  aged  tree, 
High  growing  on  the  top  of  rocky  clift, 
Whose  hartstrings  with  keene  Steele  nigh  hewen  be ; 
The  mightie  trunck,  halfe  rent  with  ragged  rift, 
Doth  roll  adowne  the  rocks,  and  fall  with  fearefull  drift. 

xxiii.  Or  as  a  Castle,  reared  high  and  round, 
By  subtile  engins  and  malitious  slight 
Is  undermined  from  the  lowest  ground, 
And  her  foundation  forst,  and  feebled  quight, 
At  last  downe  falles ;  and  with  her  heaped  hight 
Her  hastie  mine  does  more  heavie  make, 
And  yields  it  selfe  unto  the  victours  might: 
Such  was  this  Gyaunts  fall,  that  seemd  to  shake 
The  stedfast  globe  of  earth,  as  it  for  feare  did  quake. 

xxiv.  The  knight,  then  lightly  leaping  to  the  pray, 
With  mortall  Steele  him  smot  againe  so  sore, 
That  headlesse  his  unweldy  bodie  lay, 
All  wallowd  in  his  owne  fowle  bloody  gore, 
Which  flowed  from  his  wounds  in  wondrous  store. 
But,  soone  as  breath  out  of  his  brest  did  pas, 
That  huge  great  body,  which  the  Gyaunt  bore, 
Was  vanisht  quite ;  and  of  that  monstrous  mas 
Was  nothing  left,  but  like  an  emptie  blader  was, 

xxv.  Whose  grievous  fall  when  false  Duessa  spyde, 
Her  golden  cup  she  cast  unto  the  ground, 
And  crowned  mitre  rudely  threw  asyde : 
Such  percing  griefe  her  stubborne  hart  did  wound, 
That  she  could  not  endure  that  dolefull  stound 
But  leaving  all  behind  her  fled  away : 
The  light-foot  Squyre  her  quickly  turnd  around, 
And,  by  hard  meanes  enforcing  her  to  stay, 
So  brought  unto  his  Lord  as  his  deserved  pray. 

i  i  o  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  The  roiall  Virgin  which  beheld  from  farre, 
In  pensive  plight  and  sad  perplexitie, 
The  whole  atchievement  of  this  doubtfull  warre, 
Came  running  fast  to  greet  his  victorie, 
With  sober  gladnesse  and  myld  modestie ; 
And  with  sweet  joyous  cheare  him  thus  bespake: 
"  Fay  re  braunch  of  noblesse,  flowre  of  chevalrie, 
That  with  your  worth  the  world  amazed  make, 
How  shall  I  quite  the  paynes  ye  suffer  for  my  sake  ? 

xxvii.  "  And  you,  fresh  budd  of  vertue  springing  fast, 
Whom  these  sad  eyes  saw  nigh  unto  deaths  dore, 
What  hath  poore  Virgin  for  such  perill  past 
Wherewith  you  to  reward  ?    Accept  therefore 
My  simple  selfe,  and  service  evermore : 
And  he  that  high  does  sit,  and  all  things  see 
With  equall  eye,  their  merites  to  restore, 
Behold  what  ye  this  day  have  done  for  mee, 
And  what  I  cannot  quite  requite  with  usuree. 

xxviii.  "  But  sith  the  heavens,  and  your  faire  handeling, 
Have  made  you  master  of  the  field  this  day, 
Your  fortune  maister  eke  with  governing, 
And,  well  begonne,  end  all  so  well,  I  pray  I 
Ne  let  that  wicked  woman  scape  away ; 
For  she  it  is,  that  did  my  Lord  bethrall, 
My  dearest  Lord,  and  deepe  in  dongeon  lay, 
Where  he  his  better  dayes  hath  wasted  all : 
0  heare,  how  piteous  he  to  you  for  ayd  does  call !  " 

xxix.  Forthwith  he  gave  in  charge  unto  his  Squyre, 
That  scarlot  whore  to  keepen  carefully ; 
Whyles  he  himselfe  with  greedie  great  desyre 
Into  the  Castle  entred  forcibly, 
Where  living  creature  none  he  did  espye. 
Then  gan  he  lowdly  through  the  house  to  call, 
But  no  man  car'd  to  answere  to  his  crye: 
There  raignd  a  solemne  silence  over  all  : 
Nor  voice  was  heard,  nor  wight  was  seene  in  bowre  or  hall. 

xxx.  At  last,  with  creeping  crooked  pace  forth  came 
An  old  old  man,  with  beard  as  white  as  snow, 
That  on  a  staffe  his  feeble  steps  did  frame, 

Book  I — Canto  VIII  hi 

And  guyde  his  wearie  gate  both  too  and  fro, 

For  his  eye  sight  him  fayled  long  ygo ; 

And  on  his  arme  a  bounch  of  keyes  he  bore, 

The  which  unused  rust  did  overgrow: 

Those  were  the  keyes  of  every  inner  dore ; 

But  he  could  not  them  use,  but  kept  them  still  in  store. 

xxxi.  But  very  uncouth  sight  was  to  behold, 
How  he  did  fashion  his  untoward  pace; 
For  as  he  forward  moovd  his  footing  old, 
So  backward  still  was  turnd  his  wrincled  face: 
Unlike  to  men,  who  ever,  as  they  trace, 
Both  feet  and  face  one  way  are  wont  to  lead. 
This  was  the  auncient  keeper  of  that  place, 
And  foster  father  of  the  Gyaunt  dead; 
His  name  Ignaro  did  his  nature  right  aread. 

xxxii.  His  reverend  heares  and  holy  gravitee 

The  knight  much  honord,  as  beseemed  well; 
And  gently  askt,  where  all  the  people  bee, 
Which  in  that  stately  building  wont  to  dwell: 
Who  answerd  him  full  soft,  he  could  not  tell. 
Again  he  askt,  where  that  same  knight  was  layd, 
Whom  great  Orgoglio  with  his  puissaunce  fell 
Had  made  his  cay tive  thrall :  againe  he  sayde, 
He  could  not  tell  ;  ne  ever  other  answere  made. 

xxxiii.  Then  asked  he,  which  way  he  in  might  pas  ? 
He  could  not  tell,  againe  he  answered. 
Thereat  the  courteous  knight  displeased  was, 
And  said;  "  Old  syre,  it  seemes  thou  hast  not  red 
How  ill  it  sits  with  that  same  silver  hed, 
In  vaine  to  mocke,  or  mockt  in  vaine  to  bee: 
But  if  thou  be,  as  thou  art  pourtrahed 
With  natures  pen,  in  ages  grave  degree, 
Aread  in  graver  wise  what  I  demaund  of  thee." 

xxxiv.  His  answere  likewise  was,  he  could  not  tell : 

Whose  sencel.esse  speach,  and  doted  ignorance, 
Whenas  the  noble  Prince  had  marked  well, 
He  ghest  his  nature  by  his  countenance, 
And  calmd  his  wrath  with  goodly  temperance. 
Then,  to  him  stepping,  from  his  arme  did  reach 
Those  keyes,  and  made  himselfe  free  enterance. 

i  i  2  The  Faerie  Queene 

Each  dore  he  opened  without  any  breach, 

There  was  no  barre  to  stop,  nor  foe  him  to  empeach. 

xxxv.  There  all  within  full  rich  arayd  he  found, 
With  royall  arras,  and  resplendent  gold, 
And  did  with  store  of  every  thing  abound, 
That  greatest  Princes  presence  might  behold. 
But  all  the  floore  (too  filthy  to  be  told) 
With  blood  of  guiltlesse  babes,  and  innocents  trew, 
WThich  there  were  slaine  as  sheepe  out  of  the  fold, 
Defiled  was,  that  dreadfull  was  to  vew; 
And  sacred  ashes  over  it  was  strowed  new. 

xxxvi.  And  there  beside  of  marble  stone  was  built 
An  Altare,  carv'd  with  cunning  ymagery, 
On  which  trew  Christians  blood  was  often  spilt, 
And  holy  Martyres  often  doen  to  dye 
With  cruell  malice  and  strong  tyranny: 
Whose  blessed  sprites,  from  underneath  the  stone, 
To  God  for  vengeance  cryde  continually ; 
And  with  great  griefe  were  often  heard  to  grone, 
That  hardest  heart  would  bleede  to  hear  their  piteous 

xxxvu.  Through  every  rowme  he  sought,  and  everie  bowr, 
But  no  where  could  he  find  that  wofull  thrall: 
At  last  he  came  unto  an  yron  doore, 
That  fast  was  lockt,  but  key  found  not  at  all 
Emongst  that  bounch  to  open  it  withal] ; 
But  in  the  same  a  little  grate  was  pight, 
Through  which  he  sent  his  voyce,  and  lowd  did  call 
With  all  his  powre,  to  weet  if  living  wight 
Were  housed  therewithin,  whom  he  enlargen  might. 

xxxvill.  Therewith  an  hollow,  dreary,  murmuring  voyce 
These  pitteous  plaintes  and  dolours  did  resound: 
"  0 !  who  is  that,  which  bringes  me  happy  choyce 
Of  death,  that  here  lye  dying  every  stound, 
Yet  live  perforce  in  balef ull  darkenesse  bound  ? 
For  now  three  Moones  have  changed  thrice  their  hew, 
And  have  been  thrice  hid  underneath  the  ground, 
Since  I  the  heavens  chearefull  face  did  vew. 
01   welcome  thou,  that  doest  of  death  bring  tydings 

Book  I — Canto  VIII  113 

xxxix.  Which  when  that  Champion  heard,  with  percing  point 
Of  pitty  deare  his  hart  was  thrilled  sore; 
And  trembling  horrour  ran  through  every  joynt, 
For  ruth  of  gentle  knight  so  fowle  forlore; 
Which  shaking  off,  he  rent  that  yron  dore 
With  furious  force  and  indignation  fell; 
Where  entred  in,  his  foot  could  find  no  flore, 
But  all  a  deepe  descent,  as  darke  as  hell, 
That  breathed  ever  forth  a  filthie  banefull  smell. 

xl.  But  nether  darkenesse  fowle,  nor  filthy  bands, 
Nor  noyous  smell,  his  purpose  could  withhold, 
(Entire  affection  hateth  nicer  hands) 
But  that  with  constant  zele  and  corage  bold, 
After  long  paines  and  labors  manifold, 
He  found  the  meanes  that  Prisoner  up  to  reare ; 
Whose  feeble  thighes,  unable  to  uphold 
His  pined  corse,  him  scarse  to  light  could  beare; 
A  ruefull  spectacle  of  death  and  ghastly  drere. 

xli.  His  sad  dull  eies,  deepe  sunck  in  hollow  pits, 
Could  not  endure  th'  unwonted  sunne  to  view; 
His  bare  thin  cheekes  for  want  of  better  bits, 
And  empty  sides  deceived  of  their  dew, 
Could  make  a  stony  hart  his  hap  to  rew ; 
His  rawbone  armes,  whose  mighty  brawned  bowrs 
Were  wont  to  rive  Steele  plates,  and  helmets  hew, 
Were  clene  consum'd ;  and  all  his  vitall  powres 
Decay d,  and  all  his  flesh  shronk  up  like  withered  flowers. 

xlii.  Whome  when  his  Lady  saw,  to  him  she  ran 
With  hasty  joy:  to  see  him  made  her  glad, 
And  sad  to  view  his  visage  pale  and  wan, 
WTio  earst  in  flowres  of  freshest  youth  was  clad. 
Tho,  when  her  well  of  teares  she  wasted  had, 
She  said ;  "  Ah  dearest  Lord !  what  evill  starre 
On  you  hath  frownd,  and  pourd  his  influence  bad, 
That  of  your  selfe  ye  thus  berobbed  arre, 
And  this  misseeming  hew  your  manly  looks  doth  marre  ? 

xliii.  "  But  welcome  now,  my  Lord  in  wele  or  woe, 
Whose  presence  I  have  lackt  too  long  a  day : 
And  fie  on  Fortune,  mine  avowed  foe, 

1 14  The  Faerie  Queene 

Whose  wrathful  wreakes  them  selves  doe  now  alay ; 
And  for  these  wronges  shall  treble  penaunce  pay 
Of  treble  good:  good  growes  of  evils  priefe." 
The  chearelesse  man,  whom  sorrow  did  dismay, 
Had  no  delight  to  treaten  of  his  griefe ; 
His  long  endured  famine  needed  more  reliefe. 

xliv.  "  Faire  Lady/'  then  said  that  victorious  knight, 
"  The  things,  that  grievous  were  to  doe,  or  beare, 
Them  to  renew,  I  wote,  breeds  no  delight; 
Best  musicke  breeds  delight  in  loathing  eare : 
But  th'  only  good  that  growes  of  passed  feare 
Is  to  be  wise,  and  ware  of  like  agein. 
This  daies  ensample  hath  this  lesson  deare 
Deepe  written  in  my  heart  with  yron  pen, 
That  blisse  may  not  abide  in  state  of  mortall  men. 

xlv.  "  Henceforth,  Sir  knight,  take  to  you  wonted  strength, 
And  maister  these  mishaps  with  patient  might. 
Loe !  where  your  foe  lies  stretcht  in  monstrous  length ; 
And  loe !  that  wicked  woman  in  your  sight, 
The  roote  of  all  your  care  and  wretched  plight, 
Now  in  your  powre,  to  let  her  live,  or  die.,, 
u  To  doe  her  die,"  (quoth  Una)  "  were  despight, 
And  shame  t'avenge  so  weake  an  enimy; 
But  spoile  her  of  her  scarlot  robe,  and  let  her  fly." 

xlvi.  So,  as  she  bad,  that  witch  they  disaraid, 
And  robd  of  roiall  robes,  and  purple  pall, 
And  ornaments  that  richly  were  displaid; 
Ne  spared  they  to  strip  her  naked  all. 
Then,  when  they  had  despoyld  her  tire  and  call, 
Such  as  she  was  their  eies  might  her  behold, 
That  her  misshaped  parts  did  them  appall : 
A  loathly,  wrinckled  hag,  ill  favoured,  old, 
Whose  secret  filth  good  manners  biddeth  not  be  told. 

xlvii.  Her  crafty  head  was  altogether  bald, 
And,  as  in  hate  of  honorable  eld, 
Was  overgrowne  with  scurf e  and  filthy  scald ; 
Her  teeth  out  of  her  rotten  gummes  were  feld, 
And  her  sowre  breath  abhominably  smeld ; 
Her  dried  dugs,  lyke  bladders  lacking  wind, 

Book  I — Canto  VIII  115 

Hong  downe,  and  filthy  matter  from  them  weld ; 

Her  wrizled  skin,  as  rough  as  maple  rind, 

So  scabby  was  that  would  have  loathd  all  womankind. 

xlviii.  Her  neather  parts,  the  shame  of  all  her  kind, 

My  chaster  Muse  for  shame  doth  blush  to  write; 

But  at  her  rompe  she  growing  had  behind 

A  foxes  taile,  with  dong  all  fowly  dight; 

And  eke  her  feete  most  monstrous  were  in  sight; 

For  one  of  them  was  like  an  Eagles  claw, 

With  griping  talaunts  armd  to  greedy  fight; 

The  other  like  a  beares  uneven  paw, 

More  ugly  shape  yet  never  living  creature  saw. 

xlix.  Which  when  the  knights  beheld  amazd  they  were, 
And  wondred  at  so  fowle  deformed  wight. 
"  Such  then,"  (said  Una,)  "  as  she  seemeth  here, 
Such  is  the  face  of  falshood :  such  the  sight 
Of  fowle  Duessa,  when  her  borrowed  light 
Is  laid  away,  and  counterfesaunce  knowne." 
Thus  when  they  had  the  witch  disrobed  quight, 
And  all  her  filthy  feature  open  showne, 
They  let  her  goe  at  will,  and  wander  waies  unknowne. 

l.  Shee,  flying  fast  from  heavens  hated  face, 
And  from  the  world  that  her  discovered  wide, 
Fled  to  the  wastfull  wildernesse  apace, 
From  living  eies  her  open  shame  to  hide, 
And  lurkt  in  rocks  and  caves,  long  unespide. 
But  that  faire  crew  of  knights,  and  Una  faire, 
Did  in  that  castle  afterwards  abide, 
To  rest  them  selves,  and  weary  powres  repaire ; 
Where  store  they  fownd  of  al  that  dainty  was  and  rare. 

1 1 6  The  Faerie  Queene 


His  loves  and  lignage  Arthure  tells: 
The  knights  knitt  friendly  hands: 
Sir  Trevisan  flies  from  Despeyre, 
Whom  Redcros  knight  withstands. 

I.  0  goodly  golden  chayne,  wherewith  yfere 
The  vertues  linked  are  in  lovely  wize ; 
And  noble  mindes  of  yore  allyed  were, 
In  brave  poursuitt  of  chevalrous  emprize, 
That  none  did  others  safety  despize, 
Nor  aid  envy  to  him  in  need  that  stands ; 
But  friendly  each  did  others  praise  devize, 
How  to  advaunce  with  favourable  hands, 
As  this  good  Prince  redeemd  the  Redcrosse  knight  from 

II.  Who  when  their  powres,  empayrd  through  labor  long, 
With  dew  repast  they  had  recured  well, 
And  that  weake  captive  wight  now  wexed  strong, 
Them  list  no  lenger  there  at  leasure  dwell, 
But  forward  fare  as  their  adventures  fell: 
But,  ere  they  parted,  Una  faire  besought 
That  straunger  knight  his  name  and  nation  tell; 
Least  so  great  good,  as  he  for  her  had  wrought, 
Should  die  unknown,  and  buried  be  in  thankles  thought. 

in.  "  Faire  virgin,"  (said  the  Prince,)  "  yee  me  require 
A  thing  without  the  compas  of  my  witt; 
For  both  the  lignage,  and  the  certein  Sire, 
From  which  I  sprong,  from  mee  are  hidden  yitt ; 
For  all  so  soone  as  life  did  me  admitt 
Into  this  world,  and  shewed  hevens  light, 
From  mothers  pap  I  taken  was  unfitt, 
And  streight  deliver'd  to  a  Fary  knight, 
To  be  upbrought  in  gentle  thewes  and  martiall  might. 

iv.  "  Unto  Old  Timon  he  me  brought  bylive; 
Old  Timon,  who  in  youthly  yeares  hath  beene 
In  warlike  feates  th'  expertest  man  alive, 

Book  I — Canto  IX  117 

And  is  the  wisest  now  on  earth  I  weene: 

His  dwelling  is  low  in  a  valley  greene, 

Under  the  foot  of  Rauran  mossy  hore, 

From  whence  the  river  Dee,  as  silver  cleene, 

His  tombling  billowes  rolls  with  gentle  rore ; 

There  all  my  daies  he  traind  mee  up  in  vertuous  lore. 

v.  "  Thither  the  great  magicien  Merlin  came, 
As  was  his  use,  of ttimes  to  visitt  me ; 
For  he  had  charge  my  discipline  to  frame, 
And  Tutors  nouriture  to  oversee. 
Him  oft  and  oft  I  askt  in  privity, 
Of  what  loines  and  what  lignage  I  did  spring; 
Whose  aunswere  bad  me  still  assured  bee, 
That  I  was  sonne  and  heire  unto  a  king, 
As  time  in  her  just  term  the  truth  to  light  should  bring." 

vi.  "  Well  worthy  impe,"  said  then  the  Lady  gent, 
"  And  Pupill  fltt  for  such  a  Tutors  hand  I 
But  what  adventure,  or  what  high  intent, 
Hath  brought  you  hither  into  Faery  land, 
Aread,  Prince  Arthure,  crowne  of  Martiall  band?  " 
11  Full  hard  it  is,"  (quoth  he)  "  to  read  aright 
The  course  of  heavenfy  cause,  or  understand 
The  secret  meaning  of  th'  eternall  might, 
That  rules  mens  waies,  and  rules  the  thoughts  of  living 

vii.  "  For  whether  he,  through  fatal  deepe  foresight, 
Me  hither  sent  for  cause  to  me  unghest; 
Or  that  fresh  bleeding  wound,  which  day  and  night 
Whilome  doth  rancle  in  my  riven  brest, 
With  forced  fury  following  his  behest, 
Me  hither  brought  by  wayes  yet  never  found, 
You  to  have  helpt  I  hold  my  selfe  yet  blest." 
"  Ah !  courteous  Knight,"  (quoth  she) "  what  secret  wound 
Could  ever  find  to  grieve  the  gentlest  hart  on  ground  ?  " 

viii.  "  Dear  Dame,"  (quoth  he)  "  you  sleeping  sparkes  awake, 
Which,  troubled  once,  into  huge  flames  will  grow; 
Ne  ever  will  their  fervent  fury  slake, 
Till  living  moysture  into  smoke  do  flow, 
And  wasted  life  doe  lye  in  ashes  low: 
Yet  sithens  silence  lesseneth  not  my  fire, 

1 1 8  The  Faerie  Queene 

But,  told,  it  flames;  and,  hidden,  it  does  glow, 

I  will  revele  what  ye  so  much  desire. 

Ah,  Love !  lay  down  thy  bow,  the  whiles  I  may  respyre. 

ix.  "  It  was  in  freshest  flowre  of  youthly  yeares, 
When  corage  first  does  creepe  in  manly  chest, 
Then  first  the  cole  of  kindly  heat  appeares 
To  kindle  love  in  every  living  brest: 
But  me  had  warnd  old  Timons  wise  behest, 
Those  creeping  flames  by  reason  to  subdew, 
Before  their  rage  grew  to  so  great  unrest, 
As  miserable  lovers  use  to  rew, 
Which  still  wex  old  in  woe,  whiles  wo  stil  wexeth  new. 

x.  "  That  ydle  name  of  love,  and  lovers  life, 
As  losse  of  time,  and  vertues  enimy, 
I  ever  scornd,  and  joyd  to  stirre  up  strife, 
In  middest  of  their  mournfull  Tragedy ; 
Ay  wont  to  laugh  when  them  I  heard  to  cry, 
And  blow  the  fire  which  them  to  ashes  brent: 
Their  God  himself e,  grieved  at  my  libertie, 
Shott  many  a  dart  at  me  with  fiers  intent; 
But  I  them  warded  all  with  wary  government. 

xi.  "  But  all  in  vaine:  no  fort  can  be  so  strong, 
Ne  fleshly  brest  can  armed  be  so  sownd, 
But  will  at  last  be  wonne  with  battrie  long, 
Or  unawares  at  disavantage  fownd. 
Nothing  is  sure  that  growes  on  earthly  grownd ; 
And  who  most  trustes  in  arme  of  fleshly  might, 
And  boastes  in  beauties  chaine  not  to  be  bownd, 
Doth  soonest  fall  in  disaventrous  fight. 
And  yeeldes  his  caytive  neck  to  victours  most  despight. 

xn.  "  Ensample  make  of  him  your  haplesse  joy, 
And  of  my  selfe  now  mated,  as  ye  see ; 
Whose  prouder  vaunt  that  proud  avenging  boy 
Did  soone  pluck  downe,  and  curbd  my  libertee. 
For  on  a  day,  prickt  forth  with  jollitee 
Of  looser  life  and  heat  of  hardiment, 
Raunging  the  forest  wide  on  courser  free, 
The  fields,  the  floods,  the  heavens,  with  one  consent, 
Did  seeme  to  laugh  on  me,  and  favour  mine  intent. 

Book  I — Canto  IX  119 

xiii.  "  Forwearied  with  my  sportes,  I  did  alight 

From  loftie  steed,  and  downe  to  sleepe  me  layd; 
The  verdant  gras  my  couch  did  goodly  dight, 
And  pillow  was  my  helmett  fayre  displayd ; 
Whiles  every  sence  the  humour  sweet  embayd, 
And  slombring  soft  my  hart  did  steale  away, 
Me  seemed,  by  my  side  a  royall  Mayd 
Her  daintie  limbes  full  softly  down  did  lay: 
So  fayre  a  creature  yet  saw  never  sunny  day. 

xiv.  "  Most  goodly  glee  and  lovely  blandishment 
She  to  me  made,  and  badd  me  love  her  deare; 
For  dearely  sure  her  love  was  to  me  bent, 
As,  when  just  time  expired,  should  appeare. 
But  whether  dreames  delude,  or  true  it  were, 
Was  never  hart  so  ravisht  with  delight, 
Ne  living  man  like  wordes  did  ever  heare, 
As  she  to  me  delivered  all  that  night ; 
And  at  her  parting  said,  She  Queene  of  Faeries  hight. 

xv.  "  When  I  awoke,  and  found  her  place  devoyd, 
And  nought  but  pressed  gras  where  she  had  lyen, 
I  sorrowed  all  so  much  as  earst  I  joyd, 
And  washed  all  her  place  with  watry  eyen. 
From  that  day  forth  I  lov'd  that  face  divyne; 
From  that  day  forth  I  cast  in  carefull  mynd, 
To  seek  her  out  with  labor  and  long  tyne, 
And  never  vowd  to  rest  till  her  I  fynd  : 
Nyne  monethes  I  seek  in  vain,  yet  ni'll  that  vow  unbynd." 

xvi.  Thus  as  he  spake,  his  visage  wexed  pale, 

And  chaunge  of  hew  great  passion  did  bewray ; 

Yett  still  he  strove  to  cloke  his  inward  bale, 

And  hide  the  smoke  that  did  his  fire  display, 

Till  gentle  Una  thus  to  him  gan  say: 

"  0  happy  Queene  of  Faeries !  that  hast  fownd, 

Mongst  many,  one  that  with  his  prowesse  may 

Defend  thine  honour,  and  thy  foes  confownd. 

True  loves  are  often  sown,  but  seldom  grow  on  grownd.,, 

xvii.  "  Thine,  0 !  then,"  said  the  gentle  Redcrosse  knight, 
"  Next  to  that  Ladies  love,  shalbe  the  place, 
0  fayrest  virgin !  full  of  heavenly  light, 

120  The  Faerie  Queene 

Whose  wondrous  faith,  exceeding  earthly  race, 

Was  firmest  fixt  in  myne  extremest  case. 

And  you,  my  Lord,  the  Patrone  of  my  life, 

Of  that  great  Queene  may  well  gaine  worthie  grace, 

For  onely  worthie  you  through  prowes  priefe, 

Yf  living  man  mote  worthie  be  to  be  her  liefe." 

xviii.  So  diversly  discoursing  of  their  loves, 

The  golden  Sunne  his  glistring  head  gan  shew, 

And  sad  remembraunce  now  the  Prince  amoves 

With  fresh  desire  his  voyage  to  pursew; 

Als  Una  earnd  her  traveill  to  renew. 

Then  those  two  knights,  fast  friendship  for  to  bynd, 

And  love  establish  each  to  other  trew, 

Gave  goodly  gifts,  the  signes  of  gratefull  mynd, 

And  eke,  as  pledges  firme,  right  hands  together  joynd 

xix.  Prince  Arthur  gave  a  boxe  of  Diamond  sure, 
Embowd  with  gold  and  gorgeous  ornament, 
Wherein  were  closd  few  drops  of  liquor  pure, 
Of  wondrous  worth,  and  vertue  excellent, 
That  any  wownd  could  heale  incontinent. 
Which  to  requite,  the  Redcrosse  knight  him  gave 
A  booke,  wherein  his  Saveours  testament 
Was  writt  with  golden  letters  rich  and  brave : 
A  worke  of  wondrous  grace,  and  hable  soules  to  save. 

xx.  Thus  beene  they  parted ;  Arthur  on  his  way 
To  seeke  his  love,  and  th'  other  for  to  fight 
With  Unaes  foe,  that  all  her  realme  did  pray. 
But  she,  now  weighing  the  decayed  plight 
And  shrunken  synewes  of  her  chosen  knight, 
Would  not  a  while  her  forward  course  pursew, 
Ne  bring  him  forth  in  face  of  dreadfull  fight, 
Till  he  recovered  had  his  former  hew; 
For  him  to  be  yet  weake  and  wearie  well  she  knew. 

xxi.  So  as  they  traveild,  lo !  they  gan  espy 

An  armed  knight  towards  them  gallop  fast, 
That  seemed  from  some  feared  foe  to  fly, 
Or  other  griesly  thing  that  him  aghast. 
Still  as  he  fledd  his  eye  was  backward  cast, 
As  if  his  f eare  still  followed  him  behynd : 

Book  I — Canto  IX  121 

Als  Hew  his  steed  as  he  his  bandes  had  brast, 
And  with  his  winged  heeles  did  tread  the  wynd, 
As  he  had  beene  a  fole  of  Pegasus  his  kynd. 

xxii.  Nigh  as  he  drew,  they  might  perceive  his  head 
To  bee  unarmd,  and  curld  uncombed  heares 
Upstaring  stifle,  dismaid  with  uncouth  dread: 
Nor  drop  of  blood  in  all  his  face  appeares, 
Nor  life  in  limbe;  and,  to  increase  his  feares, 
In  fowle  reproch  of  knighthoodes  fayre  degree, 
About  his  neck  an  hempen  rope  he  weares, 
That  with  his  glistring  armes  does  ill  agree; 
But  he  of  rope  or  armes  has  now  no  memoree. 

xxiii.  The  Redcrosse  knight  toward  him  crossed  fast, 
To  weet  what  mister  wight  was  so  dismayd. 
There  him  he  findes  all  sencelesse  and  aghast, 
That  of  him  selfe  he  seemd  to  be  afrayd; 
Whom  hardly  he  from  flying  forward  stayd, 
Till  he  these  wordes  to  him  deliver  might: 
"  Sir  knight,  aread  who  hath  ye  thus  arayd, 
And  eke  from  whom  make  ye  this  hasty  flight? 
For  never  knight  I  saw  in  such  misseeming  plight." 

xxiv.  He  answerd  nought  at  all;  but  adding  new 
Feare  to  his  first  amazement,  staring  wyde 
With  stony  eyes  and  hartlesse  hollow  hew, 
Astonisht  stood,  as  one  that  had  aspyde 
Infernall  furies  with  their  chaines  untyde. 
Him  yett  againe,  and  yett  againe,  bespake 
The  gentle  knight;  who  nought  to  him  replyde; 
But,  trembling  every  joynt,  did  inly  quake, 
And  foltring  tongue,  at  last,  these  words  seemd  forth  to 

xxv.  "  For  Gods  deare  love,  Sir  knight,  doe  me  not  stay; 
For  loe!  he  comes,  he  comes  fast  after  mee." 
Eft  looking  back  would  faine  have  runne  away; 
But  he  him  forst  to  stay,  and  tellen  free 
The  secrete  cause  of  his  perplexitie: 
Yet  nathemore  by  his  bold  hartie  speach 
Could  his  blood  frosen  hart  emboldened  bee, 
But  through  his  boldnes  rather  feare  did  reach ; 
Yett,  forst,  at  last  he  made  through  silence  suddein  breach. 

122  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  And  am  I  now  in  safetie  sure,"  (quoth  he) 

"  From  him  that  would  have  forced  me  to  dye? 

And  is  the  point  of  death  now  turnd  fro  mee, 

That  I  may  tell  this  haplesse  history?  " 

"  Fear  nought/'  (quoth  he)  "  no  daunger  now  is  nye." 

"  Then  shall  I  you  recount  a  ruefull  cace," 

(Said  he)  "  the  which  with  this  unlucky  eye 

I  late  beheld;  and,  had  not  greater  grace 

Me  reft  from  it,  had  bene  partaker  of  the  place. 

xxvii.  "  I  lately  chaunst  (Would  I  had  never  chaunst!) 
With  a  fayre  knight  to  keepen  companee, 
Sir  Terwin  hight,  that  well  himselfe  advaunst 
In  all  affayres,  and  was  both  bold  and  free; 
But  not  so  happy  as  mote  happy  bee: 
He  lov'd,  as  was  his  lot,  a  Lady  gent 
That  him  againe  lov'd  in  the  least  degree; 
For  she  was  proud,  and  of  too  high  intent, 
And  joyd  to  see  her  lover  languish  and  lament: 

xxviii.  "  From  whom  retourning  sad  and  comfortlesse, 
As  on  the  way  together  we  did  fare, 
We  met  that  villen,  (God  from  him  me  blesse !) 
That  cursed  wight,  from  whom  I  scapt  whyleare, 
A  man  of  hell  that  calls  himselfe  Despayre: 
Who  first  us  greets,  and  after  fayre  areedes 
Of  tydinges  straunge,  and  of  adventures  rare: 
So  creeping  close,  as  Snake  in  hidden  weedes, 
Inquireth  of  our  states,  and  of  our  knightly  deedes. 

xxix.  "  Which  when  he  knew,  and  felt  our  feeble  harts 
Embost  with  bale,  and  bitter  byting  griefe, 
Which  love  had  launched  with  his  deadly  darts, 
With  wounding  words,  and  termes  of  foule  reprice, 
He  pluckt  from  us  all  hope  of  dew  reliefe, 
That  earst  us  held  in  love  of  lingring  life ; 
Then  hopelesse,  hartlesse,  gan  the  cunning  thiefe 
Perswade  us  dye,  to  stint  all  further  strife: 
To  me  he  lent  this  rope,  to  him  a  rusty  knife. 

xxx.  "  With  which  sad  instrument  of  hasty  death, 
That  wofull  lover,  loathing  lenger  light, 
A  wyde  way  made  to  let  forth  living  breath: 

Book  I — Canto  IX  123 

But  I,  more  fearefull  or  more  lucky  wight, 

Dismayd  with  that  deformed  dismall  sight, 

Fledd  fast  away,  halfe  dead  with  dying  feare; 

Ne  yet  assur'd  of  life  by  you,  Sir  knight, 

Whose  like  infirmity  like  chaunce  may  beare; 

But  God  you  never  let  his  charmed  speaches  heare !  " 

xxxi.  "  How  may  a  man,"  (said  he)  "  with  idle  speach 
Be  wonne  to  spoyle  the  Castle  of  his  health?  " 
"  I  wote,"  (quoth  he)  "  whom  tryall  late  did  teach, 
That  like  would  not  for  all  this  worldes  wealth. 
His  subtile  tong  like  dropping  honny  mealt'h 
Into  the  heart,  and  searcheth  every  vaine; 
That,  ere  one  be  aware,  by  secret  stealth 
His  powre  is  reft,  and  weaknes  doth  remaine. 
0!  never,  Sir,  desire  to  try  his  guilefull  traine." 

xxxii.  "  Certes,"  (sayd  he)  "  hence  shall  I  never  rest, 
Till  I  that  treachours  art  have  heard  and  tryde; 
And  you,  Sir  knight,  whose  name  mote  I  request, 
Of  grace  do  me  unto  his  cabin  guyde." 
"  I,  that  hight  Trevisan,"  (quoth  he)  "  will  ryde 
Against  my  liking  backe  to  doe  you  grace : 
But  nor  for  gold  nor  glee  will  I  abyde 
By  you,  when  ye  arrive  in  that  same  place; 
For  lever  had  I  die  then  see  his  deadly  face." 

xxxiii.  Ere  long  they  come  where  that  same  wicked  wight 
His  dwelling  has,  low  in  an  hollow  cave, 
For  underneath  a  craggy  cliff  ypight, 
Darke,  dolefull,  dreary,  like  a  greedy  grave, 
That  still  for  carrion  carcases  doth  crave: 
On  top  whereof  ay  dwelt  the  ghastly  Owle, 
Shrieking  his  balefull  note,  which  ever  drave 
Far  from  that  haunt  all  other  chearefull  fowle; 
And  all  about  it  wandring  ghostes  did  wayle  and  howle. 

xxxiv.  And  all  about  old  stockes  and  stubs  of  trees, 
Whereon  nor  fruit  nor  leafe  was  ever  seene, 
Did  hang  upon  the  ragged  rocky  knees; 
On  which  had  many  wretches  hanged  beene, 
Whose  carcases  were  scattred  on  the  greene, 
And  throwne  about  the  cliffs.     Arrived  there, 

i  24  The  Faerie  Queene 

That  bare-head  knight,  for  dread  and  dolefull  teene, 
Would  faine  have  fled,  ne  durst  approchen  neare; 
But  th'  other  forst  him  staye,  and  comforted  in  feare. 

xxxv.  That  darkesome  cave  they  enter,  where  they  find 
That  cursed  man,  low  sitting  on  the  ground, 
Musing  full  sadly  in  his  sullein  mind : 
His  griesie  lockes,  long  growen  and  unbound, 
Disordred  hong  about  his  shoulders  round, 
And  hid  his  face,  through  which  his  hollow  eyne 
Lookt  deadly  dull,  and  stared  as  astound; 
His  raw-bone  cheekes,  through  penurie  and  pine, 
Were  shronke  into  his  jawes,  as  he  did  never  dyne. 

xxxvi.  His  garment,  nought  but  many  ragged  clouts, 
With  thornes  together  pind  and  patched  was, 
The  which  his  naked  sides  he  wrapt  abouts; 
And  him  beside  there  lay  upon  the  gras 
A  dreary  corse,  whose  life  away  did  pas, 
All  wallowd  in  his  own  yet  luke-warme  blood, 
That  from  his  wound  yet  welled  fresh,  alas ! 
In  which  a  rusty  knife  fast  fixed  stood, 
And  made  an  open  passage  for  the  gushing  flood, 

xxxvii.  Which  piteous  spectacle,  approving  trew 
The  wofull  tale  that  Trevisan  had  told, 
Whenas  the  gentle  Redcrosse  knight  did  vew, 
With  firie  zeale  he  burnt  in  courage  bold 
Kim  to  avenge  before  his  blood  were  cold, 
And  to  the  villein  sayd;  "  Thou  damned  wight, 
The  authour  of  this  fact  we  here  behold, 
What  justice  can  but  judge  against  thee  right, 
With  thine  owne  blood  to  price  his  blood,  here  shed  in 

xxxviii.  "  What  franticke  fit,"  (quoth  he)  "  hath  thus  distraught 
Thee,  foolish  man,  so  rash  a  doome  to  give? 
What  justice  ever  other  judgement  taught, 
But  he  should  dye  who  merites  not  to  live  ? 
None  els  to  death  this  man  despayring  drive 
But  his  owne  guiltie  mind,  deserving  death. 
Is  then  unjust  to  each  his  dew  to  give? 
Or  let  him  dye,  that  loatheth  living  breath, 
Or  let  him  die  at  ease,  that  liveth  here  uneath? 

Book  I — Canto  IX  125 

xxxix.  "  Who  travailes  by  the  wearie  wandring  way, 
To  come  unto  his  wished  home  in  haste, 
And  meetes  a  flood  that  doth  his  passage  stay, 
Is  not  great  grace  to  helpe  him  over  past, 
Or  free  his  feet  that  in  the  my  re  sticke  fast? 
Most  envious  man,  that  grieves  at  neighbours  good; 
And  fond,  that  joyest  in  the  woe  thou  hast! 
Why  wilt  not  let  him  passe,  that  long  hath  stood 
Upon  the  bancke,  yet  wilt  thy  selfe  not  pas  the  flood  ? 

xl.  "  He  there  does  now  enjoy  eternall  rest 

And  happy  ease,  which  thou  doest  want  and  crave, 

And  further  from  it  daily  wanderest: 

What  if  some  little  payne  the  passage  have, 

That  makes  frayle  flesh  to  feare  the  bitter  wave, 

Is  not  short  payne  well  borne,  that  bringes  long  ease, 

And  layes  the  soule  to  sleepe  in  quiet  grave? 

Sleepe  after  toyle,  port  after  stormie  seas, 

Ease  after  warre,  death  after  life,  does  greatly  please. " 

xli.  The  knight  much  wondred  at  his  suddeine  wit, 
And  sayd;  "  The  terme  of  life  is  limited, 
Ne  may  a  man  prolong,  nor  shorten,  it: 
The  souldier  may  not  move  from  watchfull  sted, 
Nor  leave  his  stand  untill  his  Captaine  bed." 
"  WTho  life  did  limit  by  almightie  doome," 
(Quoth  he)  "  knowes  best  the  termes  established; 
And  he,  that  points  the  Centonell  his  roome, 
Doth  license  him  depart  at  sound  of  morning  droome." 

xlii.  "  Is  not  his  deed,  what  ever  thing  is  donne 
In  heaven  and  earth  ?     Did  not  he  all  create 
To  die  againe?     All  ends  that  was  begonne: 
Their  times  in  his  eternall  booke  of  fate 
Are  written  sure,  and  have  their  certein  date. 
Who  then  can  strive  with  strong  necessitie, 
That  holds  the  world  in  his  still  chaunging  state, 
Or  shunne  the  death  ordaynd  by  destinie? 
When  houre  of  death  is  come,  let  none  aske  whence,  nor 

xliii.  "  The  lenger  life,  I  wote,  the  greater  sin; 
The  greater  sin,  the  greater  punishment: 
All  those  great  battels,  which  thou  boasts  to  win 

126  The  Faerie  Queene 

Through  strife,  and  blood-shed,  and  avengement, 

Now  praysd,  hereafter  deare  thou  shalt  repent; 

For  life  must  life,  and  blood  must  blood,  repay. 

Is  not  enough  thy  evill  life  f orespent  ? 

For  he  that  once  hath  missed  the  right  way, 

The  further  he  doth  goe,  the  further  he  doth  stray. 

xliv.  "  Then  doe  no  further  goe,  no  further  stray, 
But  here  ly  downe,  and  to  thy  rest  betake, 
Th'  ill  to  prevent,  that  life  ensewen  may ; 
For  what  hath  life  that  may  it  loved  make, 
And  gives  not  rather  cause  it  to  forsake  ? 
Feare,  sicknesse,  age,  losse,  labour,  sorrow,  strife, 
Payne,  hunger,  cold  that  makes  the  hart  to  quake, 
And  ever  fickle  fortune  rageth  rife ; 
All  which,  and  thousands  mo,  do  make  a  loathsome  life. 

xlv.  "  Thou,  wretched  man,  of  death  hast  greatest  need, 
If  in  true  ballaunce  thou  wilt  weigh  thy  state; 
For  never  knight,  that  dared  warlike  deed, 
More  luckless  dissaventures  did  amate : 
Witnes  the  dungeon  deepe,  wherein  of  late 
Thy  life  shutt  up  for  death  so  oft  did  call ; 
And  though  good  lucke  prolonged  hath  thy  date, 
Yet  death  then  would  the  like  mishaps  forestall, 
Into  the  which  hereafter  thou  maist  happen  fall. 

XL vi.  "  Why  then  doest  thou,  0  man  of  sin!  desire 
To  draw  thy  dayes  forth  to  their  last  degree  ? 
Is  not  the  measure  of  thy  sinfull  hire 
High  heaped  up  with  huge  iniquitee, 
Against  the  day  of  wrath  to  burden  thee  ? 
Is  not  enough,  that  to  this  Lady  mild 
Thou  falsed  hast  thy  faith  with  perjuree, 
And  sold  thy  selfe  to  serve  Duessa  vild, 
With  whom  in  al  abuse  thou  hast  thy  selfe  defild  ? 

xlvii.  "  Is  not  he  just,  that  all  this  doth  behold 

From  highest  heven,  and  beares  an  equall  eie? 

Shall  he  thy  sins  up  in  his  knowledge  fold, 

And  guilty  be  of  thine  impietie? 

Is  not  his  lawe,  Let  every  sinner  die ; 

Die  shall  all  flesh  ?    What  then  must  needs  be  donne, 

Book  I — Canto  IX  127 

Is  it  not  better  to  doe  willinglie, 

Then  linger  till  the  glas  be  all  out  ronne? 

Death  is  the  end  of  woes:  die  soone,  0  faeries  sonne !  " 

xlviii.  The  knight  was  much  enmoved  with  his  speach, 

That  as  a  swords  poynt  through  his  hart  did  perse, 
And  in  his  conscience  made  a  secrete  breach, 
Well  knowing  trew  all  that  he  did  reherse, 
And  to  his  fresh  remembraunce  did  reverse 
The  ugly  vew  of  his  deformed  crimes; 
That  all  his  manly  powres  it  did  disperse, 
As  he  were  charmed  with  inchaunted  rimes; 
That  oftentimes  he  quakt,  and  fainted  oftentimes. 

xlix.  In  which  amazement  when  the  Miscreaunt 
Perceived  him  to  waver,  weake  and  fraile, 
Whiles  trembling  horror  did  his  conscience  daunt, 
And  hellish  anguish  did  his  soule  assaile; 
To  drive  him  to  despaire,  and  quite  to  quaile, 
Hee  shewd  him,  painted  in  a  table  plaine, 
The  damned  ghosts  that  doe  in  torments  waile, 
And  thousand  feends  that  doe  them  endlesse  paine 
With  fire  and  brimstone,  which  for  ever  shall  remaine. 

L.  The  sight  whereof  so  throughly  him  dismaid, 
That  nought  but  death  before  his  eies  he  saw, 
And  ever  burning  wrath  before  him  laid, 
By  righteous  sentence  of  th'  Almighties  law. 
Then  gan  the  villein  him  to  overcraw, 
And  brought  unto  him  swords,  ropes,  poison,  fire, 
And  all  that  might  him  to  perdition  draw; 
And  bad  him  choose  what  death  he  would  desire  ; 
For  death  was  dew  to  him  that  had  provokt  Gods  ire. 

Li.  But,  whenas  none  of  them  he  saw  him  take, 
He  to  him  raught  a  dagger  sharpe  and  keene, 
And  gave  it  him  in  hand :  his  hand  did  quake 
And  tremble  like  a  leafe  of  Aspin  greene, 
And  troubled  blood  through  his  pale  face  was  seene 
To  come  and  goe  with  tidings  from  the  heart, 
As  it  a  ronning  messenger  had  beene. 
At  last,  resolv'd  to  work  his  finall  smart, 
He  lifted  up  his  hand,  that  backe  againe  did  start. 

128  The  Faerie  Queene 

lii.  Which  whenas  Una  saw,  through  every  vaine 
The  crudled  cold  ran  to  her  well  of  life, 
As  in  a  swowne:  but,  soone  reliv'd  againe, 
Out  of  his  hand  she  snatcht  the  cursed  knife, 
And  threw  it  to  the  ground,  enraged  rife, 
And  to  him  said;  "  Fie,  fie,  faint  hearted  Knight! 
What  meanest  thou  by  this  reprochfull  strife  ? 
Is  this  the  battaile  which  thou  vauntst  to  fight 
With  that  fire-mouthed  Dragon,  horrible  and  bright? 

liii.  "  Come;  come  away,  fraile,  feeble,  fleshly  wight, 
Ne  let  vaine  words  bewitch  thy  manly  hart, 
Ne  divelish  thoughts  dismay  thy  constant  spright: 
In  heavenly  mercies  hast  thou  not  a  part  ? 
Why  shouldst  thou  then  despeire,  that  chosen  art  ? 
Where  justice  growes,  there  grows  eke  greater  grace, 
The  which  doth  quench  the  brond  of  hellish  smart, 
And  that  accurst  hand-writing  doth  deface. 
Arise,  sir  Knight;  arise,  and  leave  this  cursed  place." 

liv.  So  up  he  rose,  and  thence  amounted  streight. 
Which  when  the  carle  beheld,  and  saw  his  guest 
Would  safe  depart,  for  all  his  subtile  sleight, 
He  chose  an  halter  from  among  the  rest, 
And  with  it  hong  him  selfe,  unbid,  unblest. 
But  death  he  could  not  worke  himselfe  thereby ; 
For  thousand  times  he  so  him  selfe  had  drest, 
Yet  nathelesse  it  could  not  doe  him  die, 
Till  he  should  die  his  last,  that  is,  eternally. 

Book  I — Canto  X  129 


Her  faithfull  knight  faire  Una  brings 
To  house  of  Holinesse; 
Where  he  is  taught  repentaunce,  and 
The  way  to  hevenly  blesse. 

I.  What  man  is  he,  that  boasts  of  fleshly  might 
And  vaine  assuraunce  of  mortality, 
Which,  all  so  soone  as  it  doth  come  to  fight 
Against  spirituall  foes,  yields  by  and  by, 
Or  from  the  fielde  most  cowardly  doth  fly ! 
Ne  let  the  man  ascribe  it  to  his  skill, 
That  thorough  grace  hath  gained  victory: 
If  any  strength  we  have,  it  is  to  ill, 
But  all  the  good  is  Gods,  both  power  and  eke  will. 

11.  By  that  which  lately  hapned  Una  saw 

That  this  her  knight  was  feeble,  and  too  faint ; 
And  all  his  sinewes  woxen  weake  and  raw, 
Through  long  enprisonment,  and  hard  constraint, 
Which  he  endured  in  his  late  restraint, 
That  yet  he  was  unfitt  for  bloody  fight. 
Therefore,  to  cherish  him  with  diets  daint, 
She  cast  to  bring  him  where  he  chearen  might, 
Till  he  recovered  had  his  late  decayed  plight. 

in.  There  was  an  auncient  house  nor  far  away, 
Renowmd  throughout  the  world  for  sacred  lore 
And  pure  unspotted  life:  so  well,  they  say, 
It  governd  was,  and  guided  evermore, 
Through  wisedome  of  a  matrone  grave  and  ho  re ; 
Whose  onely  joy  was  to  relieve  the  needes 
Of  wretched  soules,  and  helpe  the  helpelesse  pore: 
All  night  she  spent  in  bidding  of  her  bedes, 
And  all  the  day  in  doing  good  and  godly  deedes. 

iv.  Dame  Caelia  men  did  her  call,  as  thought 
From  heaven  to  come,  or  thither  to  arise ; 
The  mother  of  three  daughters,  well  upbrought 

130  The  Faerie  Queene 

In  goodly  thewes,  and  godly  exercise: 

The  eldest  two,  most  sober,  chast,  and  wise, 

Fidelia  and  Speranza,  virgins  were ; 

Though  spousd,  yet  wanting  wedlocks  solemnize ; 

But  faire  Charissa  to  a  lovely  fere 

Was  lincked,  and  by  him  had  many  pledges  dere. 

V.  Arrived  there,  the  dore  they  find  fast  lockt, 
For  it  was  warely  watched  night  and  day, 
For  feare  of  many  foes ;  but,  when  they  knockt, 
The  Porter  opened  unto  them  streight  way. 
He  was  an  aged  syre,  all  hory  gray, 
With  lookes  full  lowly  cast,  and  gate  full  slow, 
Wont  on  a  staffe  his  feeble  steps  to  stay, 
Hight  Humilta.     They  passe  in,  stouping  low; 
For  streight  and  narrow  was  the  way  which  he  did  show. 

VI.  Each  goodly  thing  is  hardest  to  begin ; 
But,  entred  in,  a  spatious  court  they  see, 
Both  plaine  and  pleasaunt  to  be  walked  in ; 
Where  them  does  meete  a  francklin  faire  and  free, 
And  entertaines  with  comely  courteous  glee ; 
His  name  was  Zele,  that  him  right  well  became : 
For  in  his  speaches  and  behaviour  hee 
Did  labour  lively  to  expresse  the  same, 
And  gladly  did  them  guide,  till  to  the  Hall  they  came. 

vii.  There  fayrely  them  receives  a  gentle  Squyre, 
Of  myld  demeanure  and  rare  courtesee, 
Right  cleanly  clad  in  comely  sad  attyre ; 
In  word  and  deede  that  shewd  great  modestee, 
And  knew  his  good  to  all  of  each  degree, 
Hight  Reverence.     He  them  with  speaches  meet 
Does  faire  entreat;  no  courting  nicetee, 
But  simple,  trew,  and  eke  unfained  sweet, 
As  might  become  a  Squyre  so  great  persons  to  greet. 

viii.  And  afterwardes  them  to  his  Dame  he  leades, 
That  aged  Dame,  the  Lady  of  the  place, 
Who  all  this  while  was  busy  at  her  beades ; 
Which  doen,  she  up  arose  with  seemely  grace, 
And  toward  them  full  matronely  did  pace. 
Where,  when  that  fairest  Una  she  beheld, 

Book  I — Canto  X  i  3 

Whom  well  she  knew  to  spring  from  hevenly  race, 

Her  heart  with  joy  unwonted  inly  sweld, 

As  feeling  wondrous  comfort  in  her  weaker  eld: 

ix.  And,  her  embracing,  said ;   "  O  happy  earth, 
Whereon  thy  innocent  feet  doe  ever  tread ! 
Most  vertuous  virgin,  borne  of  hevenly  berth, 
That,  to  redeeme  thy  woefull  parents  head 
From  tyrans  rage  and  ever-dying  dread, 
Hast  wandred  through  the  world  now  long  a  day, 
Yett  ceassest  not  thy  weary  soles  to  lead ; 
What  grace  hath  thee  now  hither  brought  this  way? 
Or  doen  thy  feeble  feet  unweeting  hither  stray? 

x.  "  Straunge  thing  it  is  an  errant  knight  to  see 
Here  in  this  place ;  or  any  other  wight, 
That  hither  turnes  his  steps.     So  few  there  bee, 
That  chose  the  narrow  path,  or  seeke  the  right: 
All  keepe  the  broad  high  way,  and  take  delight 
With  many  rather  for  to  goe  astray, 
And  be  partakers  of  their  evill  plight, 
Then  with  a  few  to  walke  the  Tightest  way. 
0  foolish  men!  why  hast  ye  to  your  own  decay?  " 

xi.  "  Thy  selfe  to  see,  and  tyred  limbes  to  rest, 
0  matrone  sage,"  (quoth  she)  "  I  hither  came; 
And  this  good  knight  his  way  with  me  addrest, 
Ledd  with  thy  prayses,  and  broad-blazed  fame, 
That  up  to  heven  is  blowne."     The  auncient  Dame 
Him  goodly  greeted  in  her  modest  guyse, 
And  enterteynd  them  both,  as  best  became, 
With  all  the  court'sies  that  she  could  devyse, 
Ne  wanted  ought  to  shew  her  bounteous  or  wise. 

xii.  Thus  as  they  gan  of  sondrie  thinges  devise, 
Loe !  two  most  goodly  virgins  came  in  place, 
Ylinked  arme  in  arme  in  lovely  wise : 
W7ith  countenance  demure,  and  modest  grace, 
They  numbred  even  steps  and  equall  pace; 
Of  which  the  eldest,  that  Fidelia  hight, 
Like  sunny  beames  threw  from  her  Christall  face 
That  could  have  dazd  the  rash  beholders  sight, 
And  round  about  her  head  did  shine  like  hevens  light. 

132  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  She  was  araied  all  in  lilly  white, 

And  in  her  right  hand  bore  a  cup  of  gold, 

With  wine  and  water  flld  up  to  the  hight, 

In  which  a  Serpent  did  himselfe  enfold, 

That  horrour  made  to  all  that  did  behold ; 

But  she  no  whitt  did  chaunge  her  constant  mood: 

And  in  her  other  hand  she  fast  did  hold 

A  booke,  that  was  both  signd  and  seald  with  blood; 

Wherein  darke  things  were  writt,  hard  to  be  understood, 

xiv.  Her  younger  sister,  that  Speranza  hight, 
Was  clad  in  blew,  that  her  beseemed  well; 
Not  all  so  chearefull  seemed  she  of  sight, 
As  was  her  sister :  whether  dread  did  dwell 
Or  anguish  in  her  hart,  is  hard  to  tell. 
Upon  her  arme  a  silver  anchor  lay, 
Whereon  she  leaned  ever,  as  befell; 
And  ever  up  to  heven,  as  she  did  pray, 
Her  stedfast  eyes  were  bent,  ne  swarved  other  way* 

xv.  They,  seeing  Una,  towardes  her  gan  wend, 
Who  them  encounters  with  like  courtesee; 
Many  kind  speeches  they  betweene  them  spend, 
And  greatly  joy  each  other  for  to  see : 
Then  to  the  knight  with  shamefast  modestie 
They  turne  themselves,  at  Unaes  meeke  request, 
And  him  salute  with  well  beseeming  glee ; 
Who  faire  them  quites,  as  him  beseemed  best, 
And  goodly  gan  discourse  of  many  a  noble  gest, 

xvi.  Then  Una  thus:   "  But  she,  your  sister  deare, 
The  deare  Charissa,  where  is  she  become  ? 
Or  wants  she  health,  or  busie  is  elsewhere  ?  " 
"  Ah!  no,"  said  they,  "  but  forth  she  may  not  come; 
For  she  of  late  is  lightned  of  her  wombe, 
And  hath  encreast  the  world  with  one  sonne  more, 
That  her  to  see  should  be  but  troublesome." 
"  Indeed,"  (quoth  she)  "  that  should  her  trouble  sore; 
But  thankt  be  God,  and  her  encrease  so  evermore !  " 

xvii.  Then  said  the  aged  Cselia,  "  Deare  dame, 

And  you,  good  Sir,  I  wote  that  of  youre  toyle 
And  labors  long,  through  which  ye  hither  came, 

Book  I — Canto  X  133 

Ye  both  f orwearied  be :  therefore,  a  whyle 

I  read  you  rest,  and  to  your  bowres  recoyle." 

Then  called  she  a  Groome,  that  forth  him  ledd 

Into  a  goodly  lodge,  and  gan  despoile 

Of  puissant  armes,  and  laid  in  easie  bedd. 

His  name  was  meeke  Obedience,  rightfully  aredd. 

xviii.  Now  when  their  wearie  limbes  with  kindly  rest, 
And  bodies  were  refresht  with  dew  repast, 
Fayre  Una  gan  Fidelia  fayre  request, 
To  have  her  knight  into  her  schoolehous  plaste, 
That  of  her  heavenly  learning  he  might  taste, 
And  heare  the  wisdom  of  her  wordes  divine. 
She  graunted ;  and  that  knight  so  much  agraste, 
That  she  him  taught  celestiall  discipline, 
And  opened  his  dull  eyes,  that  light  mote  in  them  shine. 

xix.  And  that  her  sacred  Booke,  with  blood  ywritt, 
That  none  could  reade  except  she  did  them  teach, 
She  unto  him  disclosed  every  whitt; 
And  heavenly  documents  thereout  did  preach, 
That  weaker  witt  of  man  could  never  reach; 
Of  God;  of  grace;  of  justice;  of  free-will; 
That  wonder  was  to  heare  her  goodly  speach: 
For  she  was  hable  with  her  wordes  to  kill, 
And  rayse  againe  to  life  the  hart  that  she  did  thrill. 

xx.  And,  when  she  list  poure  out  her  larger  spright, 
She  would  commaund  the  hasty  Sunne  to  stay, 
Or  backward  turne  his  course  from  hevens  hight: 
Sometimes  great  hostes  of  men  she  could  dismay; 
Dry-shod  to  passe  she  parts  the  flouds  in  tway; 
And  eke  huge  mountaines  from  their  native  seat 
She  would  commaund  themselves  to  beare  away, 
And  throw  in  raging  sea  with  roaring  threat. 
Almightie  God  her  gave  such  powre  and  puissaunce  great. 

xxi.  The  faithfull  knight  now  grew  in  little  space, 
By  hearing  her,  and  by  her  sisters  lore, 
To  such  perfection  of  all  hevenly  grace, 
That  wretched  world  he  gan  for  to  abhore, 
And  mortall  life  gan  loath  as  thing  forlore, 
Greevd  with  remembrance  of  his  wicked  wayes, 

134  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  prickt  with  anguish  of  his  sinnes  so  sore, 

That  he  desirde  to  end  his  wretched  dayes : 

So  much  the  dart  of  sinfull  guilt  the  soule  dismay es. 

xxii.  But  wise  Speranza  gave  him  comfort  sweet, 
And  taught  him  how  to  take  assured  hold 
Upon  her  silver  anchor,  as  was  meet; 
Els  had  his  sinnes,  so  great  and  manifold, 
Made  him  forget  all  that  Fidelia  told. 
In  this  distressed  doubtfull  agony, 
When  him  his  dearest  Una  did  behold 
Disdeining  life,  desiring  leave  to  dye, 
She  found  her  selfe  assayld  with  great  perplexity; 

xxiii.  And  came  to  Cselia  to  declare  her  smart; 

Who,  well  acquainted  with  that  commune  plight, 

Which  sinfull  horror  workes  in  wounded  hart, 

Her  wisely  comforted  all  that  she  might, 

With  goodly  counsell  and  advisement  right; 

And  streightway  sent  with  carefull  diligence, 

To  fetch  a  Leach,  the  which  had  great  insight 

In  that  disease  of  grieved  conscience, 

And  well  could  cure  the  same:  His  name  was  Patience. 

xxiv.  Who,  comming  to  that  sowle-diseased  knight, 
Could  hardly  him  intreat  to  tell  his  grief: 
Which  knowne,  and  all  that  noyd  his  heavie  spright 
Well  searcht,  eftsoones  he  gan  apply  relief 
Of  salves  and  med'cines,  which  had  passing  prief ; 
And  thereto  added  wordes  of  wondrous  might. 
By  which  to  ease  he  him  recured  brief, 
And  much  aswag'd  the  passion  of  his  plight, 
That  he  his  paine  endur'd,  as  seeming  now  more  light. 

xxv.  But  yet  the  cause  and  root  of  all  his  ill, 
Inward  corruption  and  infected  sin, 
Not  purg'd  nor  heald,  behind  remained  still, 
And  festring  sore  did  ranckle  yett  within, 
Close  creeping  twixt  the  marow  and  the  skin: 
Which  to  extirpe,  he  laid  him  privily 
Downe  in  a  darksome  lowly  place  far  in, 
Whereas  he  meant  his  corrosives  to  apply, 
And  with  streight  diet  tame  his  stubborne  malady. 

Book  I — Canto  X  135 

xxvi.  In  ashes  and  sackcloth  he  did  array 

His  daintie  corse,  proud  humors  to  abate; 

And  dieted  with  fasting  every  day, 

The  swelling  of  his  woundes  to  mitigate; 

And  made  him  pray  both  earely  and  eke  late: 

And  ever,  as  superfluous  flesh  did  rott, 

Amendment  readie  still  at  hand  did  wayt, 

To  pluck  it  out  with  pincers  fyrie  whott, 

That  soone  in  him  was  lefte  no  one  corrupted  jott* 

xxvii.  And  bitter  Penaunce,  with  an  yron  whip, 
Was  wont  him  once  to  disple  every  day: 
And  sharp  Remorse  his  hart  did  prick  and  nip, 
That  drops  of  blood  thence  like  a  well  did  play: 
And  sad  Repentance  used  to  embay 
His  blamefull  body  in  salt  water  sore, 
The  filthy  blottes  of  sin  to  wash  away. 
So  in  short  space  they  did  to  health  restore 
The  man  that  would  not  live,  but  erst  lay  at  deathes  dore. 

xxviii.  In  which  his  torment  often  was  so  great, 
That  like  a  Lyon  he  would  cry  and  rore, 
And  rend  his  flesh,  and  his  owne  synewes  eat. 
His  owne  deare  Una,  hearing  evermore 
His  ruefull  shriekes  and  gronings,  often  tore 
Her  guiltlesse  garments  and  her  golden  heare, 
For  pitty  of  his  payne  and  anguish  sore : 
Yet  all  with  patience  wisely  she  did  beare, 
For  well  she  wist  his  cry  me  could  els  be  never  cleare. 

xxix.  Whom,  thus  recover'd  by  wise  Patience 

And  trew  Repentaunce,  they  to  Una  brought; 

Who,  joyous  of  his  cured  conscience, 

Him  dearely  kist,  and  fayrely  eke  besought 

Himselfe  to  chearish,  and  consuming  thought 

To  put  away  out  of  his  carefull  brest. 

By  this  Charissa,  late  in  child-bed  brought, 

Was  woxen  strong,  and  left  her  fruitfull  nest: 

To  her  fayre  Una  brought  this  unacquainted  guest. 

xxx.  She  was  a  woman  in  her  freshest  age, 

Of  wondrous  beauty,  and  of  bounty  rare, 
With  goodly  grace  and  comely  personage, 

136  The  Faerie  Queene 

That  was  on  earth  not  easie  to  compare; 
Full  of  great  love,  but  Cupids  wanton  snare 
As  hell  she  hated ;  chaste  in  worke  and  will : 
Her  necke  and  brests  were  ever  open  bare, 
That  ay  thereof  her  babes  might  sucke  their  fill; 
The  rest  was  all  in  yellow  robes  arayed  still. 

xxxi.  A  multitude  of  babes  about  her  hong, 

Playing  their  sportes,  that  joyd  her  to  behold; 
Whom  still  she  fed  whiles  they  were  weake  and  young, 
But  thrust  them  forth  still  as  they  wexed  old : 
And  on  her  head  she  wore  a  tyre  of  gold, 
Adornd  with  gemmes  and  owches  wondrous  fayre, 
Whose  passing  price  uneath  was  to  be  told: 
And  by  her  syde  there  sate  a  gentle  payre, 
Of  turtle  doves,  she  sitting  in  an  yvory  chayre. 

xxxii.  The  knight  and  Una  entring  fayre  her  greet, 
And  bid  her  joy  of  that  her  happy  brood; 
Who  them  requites  with  court'sies  seeming  meet, 
And  entertaynes  with  friendly  chearefull  mood. 
Then  Una  her  besought,  to  be  so  good 
As  in  her  vertuous  rules  to  schoole  her  knight, 
Now  after  all  his  torment  well  withstood 
In  that  sad  house  of  Penaunce,  where  his  spright 
Had  past  the  paines  of  hell  and  long-enduring  night. 

xxxiii.  She  was  right  joyous  of  her  just  request; 

And  taking  by  the  hand  that  Faeries  sonne, 

Gan  him  instruct  in  everie  good  behest, 

Of  love,  and  righteousness,  and  well  to  donne; 

And  wrath  and  hatred  warely  to  shonne, 

That  drew  on  men  Gods  hatred  and  his  wrath, 

And  many  soules  in  dolours  had  fordonne: 

In  which  when  him  she  well  instructed  hath, 

From  thence  to  heaven  she  teacheth  him  the  ready  path. 

xxxiv.  Wherein  his  weaker  wandring  steps  to  guyde, 
An  auncient  matrone  she  to  her  does  call, 
Whose  sober  lookes  her  wisedome  well  descryde : 
Her  name  was  Mercy;  well  knowne  over-all 
To  be  both  gratious  and  eke  liberall : 
To  whom  the  carefull  charge  of  him  she  gave, 

Book  I — Canto  X  137 

To  Icade  aright,  that  he  should  never  fall 

In  all  his  waies  through  this  wide  worldes  wave; 

That  Mercy  in  the  end  his  righteous  soule  might  save. 

xxxv.  The  godly  Matrone  by  the  hand  him  beares 
Forth  from  her  presence,  by  a  narrow  way, 
Scattred  with  bushy  thornes  and  ragged  breares, 
Which  still  before  him  she  remov'd  away, 
That  nothing  might  his  ready  passage  stay: 
And  ever,  when  his  feet  encombred  were, 
Or  gan  to  shrinke,  or  from  the  right  to  stray, 
She  held  him  fast,  and  firmely  did  upbeare, 
As  carefull  Nourse  her  child  from  falling  oft  does  reare. 

xxxvi.  Eftsoones  unto  an  holy  Hospitall, 

That  was  foreby  the  way,  she  did  him  bring; 
In  which  seven  Bead-men,  that  had  vowed  all 
Their  life  to  service  of  high  heavens  King, 
Did  spend  their  daies  in  doing  godly  thing. 
Their  gates  to  all  were  open  evermore, 
That  by  the  wearie  way  were  traveiling ; 
And  one  sate  wayting  ever  them  before, 
To  call  in  commers-by  that  needy  were  and  pore. 

xxxvii.  The  first  of  them,  that  eldest  was  and  best, 
Of  all  the  house  had  charge  and  government, 
As  Guardian  and  Steward  of  the  rest. 
His  office  was  to  give  entertainement 
And  lodging  unto  all  that  came  and  went; 
Not  unto  such  as  could  him  feast  againe, 
And  double  quite  for  that  he  on  them  spent; 
But  such  as  want  of  harbour  did  constraine : 
Those  for  Gods  sake  his  dewty  was  to  entertaine. 

xxxviii.  The  second  was  as  Almner  of  the  place: 
His  office  was  the  hungry  for  to  feed, 
And  thristy  give  to  drinke ;  a  worke  of  grace. 
He  feard  not  once  himselfe  to  be  in  need, 
Ne  car'd  to  hoord  for  those  whom  he  did  breede: 
The  grace  of  God  he  layd  up  still  in  store, 
Which  as  a  stocke  he  left  unto  his  seede. 
He  had  enough ;  what  need  him  care  for  more  ? 
And  had  he  lesse,  yet  some  he  would  give  to  the  pore. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  The  third  had  of  their  wardrobe  custody, 

In  which  were  not  rich  tyres,  nor  garments  gay, 

The  plumes  of  pride,  and  winges  of  vanity, 

But  clothes  meet  to  keepe  keene  cold  away, 

And  naked  nature  seemely  to  aray ; 

With  which  bare  wretched  wights  he  dayly  clad, 

The  images  of  God  in  earthly  clay; 

And,  if  that  no  spare  clothes  to  give  he  had, 

His  owne  cote  he  would  cut,  and  it  distribute  glad. 

xl.  The  fourth  appointed  by  his  office  was 

Poore  prisoners  to  relieve  with  gratious  ayd, 
And  captives  to  redeeme  with  price  of  bras 
From  Turkes  and  Sarazins,  which  them  had  stayd: 
And  though  they  faulty  were,  yet  well  he  wayd, 
That  God  to  us  forgiveth  every  howre 
Much  more  then  that  why  they  in  bands  were  layd ; 
And  he,  that  harrowd  hell  with  heavie  stowre, 
The  faulty  soules  from  thence  brought  to  his  heavenly 

xli.  The  fift  had  charge  sick  persons  to  attend, 

And  comfort  those  in  point  of  death  which  lay; 
For  them  most  needeth  comfort  in  the  end, 
When  sin,  and  hell,  and  death,  doe  most  dismay 
The  feeble  soule  departing  hence  away. 
All  is  but  lost,  that  living  we  bestow, 
If  not  well  ended  at  our  dying  day. 
0  man !  have  mind  of  that  last  bitter  throw; 
For  as  the  tree  does  fall,  so  lyes  it  ever  low. 

xlii.  The  sixt  had  charge  of  them  now  being  dead, 
In  seemely  sort  their  corses  to  engrave, 
And  deck  with  dainty  flowres  their  brydall  bed, 
That  to  their  heavenly  spouse  both  sweet  and  brave 
They  might  appeare,  when  he  their  soules  shall  save. 
The  wondrous  workmanship  of  Gods  owne  mould, 
Whose  face  he  made  all  beastes  to  feare,  and  gave 
All  in  his  hand,  even  dead  we  honour  should. 
Ah,  dearest  God,  me  graunt,  I  dead  be  not  defould ! 

xliii.  The  seventh,  now  after  death  and  buriall  done, 
Had  charge  the  tender  Orphans  of  the  dead 
And  wydowes  ayd,  least  they  should  be  undone: 

Book  I — Canto  X  139 

In  face  of  judgement  he  their  right  would  plead, 

Ne  ought  the  powre  of  mighty  men  did  dread 

In  their  defence;  nor  would  for  gold  or  fee 

Be  wonne  their  rightfull  causes  downe  to  tread ; 

And,  when  they  stood  in  most  necessitee, 

He  did  supply  their  want,  and  gave  them  ever  free. 

xliv.  There  when  the  Elfin  knight  arrived  was, 

The  first  and  chiefcst  of  the  seven,  whose  care 
Was  guests  to  welcome,  towardes  him  did  pas; 
Where  seeing  Mercie,  that  his  steps  upbare 
And  alwaies  led,  to  her  with  reverence  rare 
He  humbly  louted  in  meeke  lowlinesse, 
And  seemely  welcome  for  her  did  prepare : 
For  of  their  order  she  was  Patronesse, 
Albe  Charissa  were  their  chiefest  founderesse. 

xlv.  There  she  awhile  him  staves,  himselfe  to  rest, 
That  to  the  rest  more  liable  he  might  bee; 
During  which  time,  in  every  good  behest, 
And  godly  worke  of  Almes  and  charitee, 
Shee  him  instructed  with  great  industree. 
Shortly  therein  so  perfect  he  became, 
That,  from  the  first  unto  the  last  degree, 
His  mortall  life  he  learned  had  to  frame 
In  holy  righteousnesse,  without  rebuke  or  blame. 

xlvi.  Thence  forward  by  that  painfull  way  they  pas 
Forth  to  an  hill  that  was  both  steepe  and  hy, 
On  top  whereof  a  sacred  chappell  was, 
And  eke  a  litle  Hermitage  thereby, 
Wherein  an  aged  holy  man  did  lie, 
That  day  and  night  said  his  devotion, 
Ne  other  worldly  business  did  apply : 
His  name  was  hevenly  Contemplation; 
Of  God  and  goodnes  was  his  meditation. 

xlvii.  Great  grace  that  old  man  to  him  given  had; 
For  God  he  often  saw  from  heavens  hight: 
All  were  his  earthly  eien  both  blunt  and  bad, 
And  through  great  age  had  lost  their  kindly  sight, 
Yet  wondrous  quick  and  persaunt  was  his  spright, 
As  Eagles  eie  that  can  behold  the  Sunne. 

140  The  Faerie  Queene 

That  hill  they  scale  with  all  their  powre  and  might, 
That  his  fraile  thighes,  nigh  weary  and  fordonne, 
Gan  faile ;  but  by  her  helpe  the  top  at  last  he  wonne. 

xlviii.  There  they  doe  finde  that  godly  aged  Sire, 

With  snowy  lockes  adowne  his  shoulders  shed; 

As  hoary  frost  with  spangles  doth  attire 

The  mossy  braunches  of  an  Oke  halfe  ded. 

Each  bone  might  through  his  body  well  be  red 

And  every  sinew  seene,  through  his  long  fast: 

For  nought  he  carM  his  carcas  long  unfed ; 

His  mind  was  full  of  spiritual  repast, 

And  pyn'd  his  flesh  to  keepe  his  body  low  and  chast* 

xlix.  Who,  when  these  two  approching  he  aspide, 
At  their  first  presence  grew  agriered  sore, 
That  forst  him  lay  his  hevenly  thoughts  aside; 
And  had  he  not  that  Dame  respected  more, 
Whom  highly  he  did  reverence  and  adore, 
He  would  not  once  have  moved  for  the  knight. 
They  him  saluted,  standing  far  afore, 
Who,  well  them  greeting,  humbly  did  requight, 
And  asked  to  what  end  they  clomb  that  tedious  hight? 

L.  "  What  end,"  (quoth  she)  "should  cause  us  take  such  paine, 
But  that  same  end,  which  every  living  wight 
Should  make  his  marke  high  heaven  to  attaine  ? 
Is  not  from  hence  the  way,  that  leadeth  right 
To  that  most  glorious  house,  that  glistreth  bright 
With  burning  starres  and  everliving  fire, 
Whereof  the  keies  are  to  thy  hand  behight 
By  wise  Fidelia?     Shee  doth  thee  require, 
To  shew  it  to  this  knight,  according  his  desire." 

Li.  "  Thrise  happy  man,"  said  then  the  father  grave, 
"  Whose  staggering  steps  thy  steady  hand  doth  lead, 
And  shewes  the  way  his  sinfull  soule  to  save ! 
Who  better  can  the  way  to  heaven  aread 
Then  thou  thy  self  e,  that  was  both  borne  and  bred 
In  hevenly  throne,  where  thousand  Angels  shine  ? 
Thou  doest  the  praiers  of  the  righteous  sead 
Present  before  the  majesty  divine, 
And  his  avenging  wrath  to  clemency  incline. 

Book  I — Canto  X  141 

lii.  "  Yet,  since  thou  bidst,  thy  pleasure  shalbe  donne. 
Then  come,  thou  man  of  earth,  and  see  the  way, 
That  never  yet  was  seene  of  Faeries  sonne; 
That  never  leads  the  traveiler  astray, 
But  after  labors  long  and  sad  delay, 
Brings  them  to  joyous  rest  and  endlesse  blis. 
But  first  thou  must  a  season  fast  and  pray, 
Till  from  her  hands  the  spright  assoiled  is, 
And  have  her  strength  recur'd  from  fraile  infirmitis. 

liii.  "  That  done,  he  leads  him  to  the  highest  Mount, 
Such  one  as  that  same  mighty  man  of  God, 
That  blood-red  billowes,  like  a  walled  front, 
On  either  side  disparted  with  his  rod, 
Till  that  his  army  dry-foot  through  them  yod, 
Dwelt  forty  daies  upon;  where,  writt  in  stone 
With  bloody  letters  by  the  hand  of  God, 
The  bitter  doome  of  death  and  balefull  mone 
He  did  receive,  whiles  flashing  fire  about  him  shone : 

liv.  Or  like  that  sacred  hill,  whose  head  full  hie, 
Adornd  with  fruitfull  Olives  all  arownd, 
Is,  as  it  were  for  endlesse  memory 
Of  that  deare  Lord  who  oft  thereon  was  fownd, 
For  ever  with  a  flowring  girlond  crownd : 
Or  like  that  pleasaunt  Mount,  that  is  for  ay 
Through  famous  Poets  verse  each  where  renownd, 
On  which  the  thrise  three  learned  Ladies  play 
Their  hevenly  notes,  and  make  full  many  a  lovely  lay. 

lv.  From  thence,  far  off  he  unto  him  did  shew 
A  little  path  that  was  both  steepe  and  long, 
Which  to  a  goodly  Citty  led  his  vew, 
Whose  wals  and  towres  were  builded  high  and  strong 
Of  perle  and  precious  stone,  that  earthly  tong 
Cannot  describe,  nor  wit  of  man  can  tell; 
Too  high  a  ditty  for  my  simple  song. 
The  Citty  of  the  greate  king  hight  it  well, 
Wherein  eternall  peace  and  happinesse  doth  dwell. 

lvi.  As  he  thereon  stood  gazing,  he  might  see 
The  blessed  Angels  to  and  fro  descend 
From  highest  heven  in  gladsome  companee, 

142  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  with  great  joy  into  that  Citty  wend, 

As  commonly  as  frend  does  with  his  friend. 

Whereat  he  wondred  much,  and  gan  enquere, 

What  stately  building  durst  so  high  extend 

Her  lofty  towres  unto  the  starry  sphere, 

And  what  unknowen  nation  there  empeopled  were  ? 

lvii.  "  Faire  Knight,"  (quoth  he)  "  Hierusalem  that  is, 
The  new  Hierusalem,  that  God  has  built 
For  those  to  dwell  in  that  are  chosen  his, 
His  chosen  people,  purg'd  from  sinful  guilt 
With  pretious  blood,  which  cruelly  was  spilt 
On  cursed  tree,  of  that  unspotted  lam, 
That  for  the  sinnes  of  al  the  world  was  kilt: 
Now  are  they  Saints  all  in  that  Citty  sam, 
More  dear  unto  their  God  then  younglings  to  their  dam." 

lviii.  "  Till  now,"  said  then  the  knight,  "  I  weened  well, 
That  great  Cleopolis,  where  I  have  beene, 
In  which  that  fairest  Faery  Queene  doth  dwell, 
The  fairest  citty  was  that  might  be  seene ; 
And  that  bright  towre,  all  built  of  christall  clene, 
Panthea,  seemd  the  brightest  thing  that  was ; 
But  now  by  proofe  all  otherwise  I  weene, 
For  this  great  Citty  that  does  far  surpas, 
And  this  bright  Angels  towre  quite  dims  that  towre  of  glas. ' ' 

lix.  "  Most  trew,"  then  said  the  holy  aged  man; 
"  Yet  is  Cleopolis,  for  earthly  frame, 
The  fairest  peece  that  eie  beholden  can; 
And  well  beseemes  all  knights  of  noble  name, 
That  covett  in  th'  immortall  booke  of  fame 
To  be  eternized,  that  same  to  haunt, 
And  doen  their  service  to  that  soveraigne  Dame, 
That  glory  does  to  them  for  guerdon  graunt  : 
For  she  is  hevenly  borne,  and  heaven  may  justly  vaunt. 

lx.  "  And  thou,  faire  ymp,  sprong  out  from  English jace, 
How  ever  now  accompted  Elfins  sonne, 
Well  worthy  doest  thy  service  for  her  grace, 
To  aide  a  virgin  desolate,  f oredonne ; 
But  when  thou  famous  victory  hast  wonne, 
And  high  emongst  all  knights  hast  hong  thy  shield, 

Book  1 — Canto  X  143 

Thenceforth  the  suitt  of  earthly  conquest  shonne, 

And  wash  thy  hands  from  guilt  of  bloody  field : 

For  blood  can  nought  but  sin,  and  wars  but  sorrows  yield. 

lxi.  "  Then  seek  this  path  that  I  to  thee  presage, 
Which  after  all  to  heaven  shall  thee  send; 
Then  peaceably  thy  painefull  pilgrimage 
To  yonder  same  Hierusalem  doe  bend, 
Where  is  for  thee  ordaind  a  blessed  end : 
For  thou,  emongst  those  Saints  whom  thou  doest  see, 
Shalt  be  a  Saint,  and  thine  owne  nations  frend 
And  Patrone :   thou  Saint  George  shalt  called  bee, 
Saint  George  of  mery  England,  the  signe  of  victoree." 

lxii.  "  Unworthy  wretch,"  (quoth  he)  "  of  so  great  grace, 
How  dare  I  thinke  such  glory  to  attaine?  " 
"  These,  that  have  it  attaynd,  were  in  like  cace, 
As  wretched  men,  and  lived  in  like  paine." 
"  But  deeds  of  armes  must  I  at  last  be  faine 
And  Ladies  love  to  leave,  so  dearely  bought?  " 
"  What  need  of  armes,  where  peace  doth  ay  remaine," 
(Said  he)  "  and  bitter  battailes  all  are  fought? 
As  for  loose  loves,  they 'are  vaine,  and  vanish  into  nought.1 ' 

lxiii.  "  0 1  let  me  not,"  (quoth  he)  "  then  turne  againe 
Backe  to  the  world,  whose  joyes  so  fruitlesse  are; 
But  let  me  heare  for  aie  in  peace  remaine, 
Or  streightway  on  that  last  long  voiage  fare, 
That  nothing  may  my  present  hope  empare." 
"  That  may  not  be,"  (said  he)  "  ne  maist  thou  yitt 
Forgoe  that  royal  maides  bequeathed  care, 
Who  did  her  cause  into  thy  hand  committ, 
Till  from  her  cursed  foe  thou  have  her  freely  quitt." 

lxiv.  "  Then  shall  I  soone,"  (quoth  he)  "  so  God  me  grace, 
Abett  that  virgins  cause  disconsolate, 
And  shortly  back  returne  unto  this  place, 
To  walke  this  way  in  Pilgrims  poore  estate. 
But  now  aread,  old  father,  why  of  late 
Didst  thou  behight  me  borne  of  English  blood, 
Whom  all  a  Faeries  sonne  doen  nominate?  " 
"  That  word  shall  I,"  (said  he)  "  avouchen  good, 
Sith  to  thee  is  unknowne  the  cradle  of  thy  brood. 

144  The  Faerie  Queene 

lxv.  "  For,  well  I  wote,  thou  springst  from  ancient  race 
Of  Saxon  kinges,  that  have  with  mightie  hand, 
And  many  bloody  battailes  fought  in  face, 
High  reard  their  royall  throne  in  Britans  land, 
And  vanquisht  them,  unable  to  withstand: 
From  thence  a  Faery  thee  unweeting  reft, 
There  as  thou  slepst  in  tender  swadling  band, 
And  her  base  Elfin  brood  there  for  thee  left  : 
Such,  men  do  Chaungelings  call,  so  chaung'd  by  Faeries 

lxvi.  "  Thence  she  thee  brought  into  this  Faery  lond, 
And  in  an  heaped  furrow  did  thee  hyde; 
Where  thee  a  Ploughman  all  unweeting  fond, 
As  he  his  toylesome  teme  that  way  did  guyde, 
And  brought  thee  up  in  ploughmans  state  to  byde, 
Whereof  Georgos  he  thee  gave  to  name; 
Till  prickt  with  courage,  and  thy  forces  pryde, 
To  Faery  court  thou  cam'st  to  seek  for  fame, 
And  prove  thy  puissant  armes,  as  seemes  thee  best  became." 

lxvii.  "  0  holy  Sire !  "  (quoth  he)  "  how  shall  I  quight 
The  many  favours  I  with  thee  have  fownd, 
That  hast  my  name  and  nation  redd  aright, 
And  taught  the  way  that  does  to  heaven  bownd !  " 
This  saide,  adowne  he  looked  to  the  grownd 
To  have  returnd;  but  dazed  were  his  eyne 
Through  passing  brightnes,  which  did  quite  confound 
His  feeble  sence,  and  too  exceeding  shyne. 
So  darke  are  earthly  thinges  compard  to  things  divine. 

lxviii.  At  last,  whenas  himself e  he  gan  to  fynd, 
To  Una  back  he  cast  him  to  retyre, 
Who  him  awaited  still  with  pensive  mynd. 
Great  thankes,  and  goodly  meed,  to  that  good  syre 
He  thens  departing  gave  for  his  paynes  hyre 
So  came  to  Una,  who  him  joyd  to  see; 
And,  after  litle  rest,  gan  him  desyre 
Of  her  adventure  myndfull  for  to  bee. 
So  leave  they  take  of  Cselia  and  her  daughters  three. 

Book  I — Canto  XI  145 


The  knight  with  that  old  Dragon  fights 
Two  days  incessantly: 
The  third  him  overthrowes,  and  gayns 
Most  glorious  victory. 

I.  High  time  now  gan  it  wex  for  Una  fayre 
To  thinke  of  those  her  captive  Parents  deare, 
And  their  forwasted  kingdom  to  repayre: 
Whereto  whenas  they  now  approched  neare, 
With  hartie  wordes  her  knight  she  gan  to  cheare, 
And  in  her  modest  maner  thus  bespake: 
"  Deare  knight,  as  deare  as  ever  knight  was  deare, 
That  all  these  sorrowes  suffer  for  my  sake, 
High  heven  behold  the  tedious  toyle  ye  for  me  take ! 

11.  "  Now  are  we  come  unto  my  native  soyle, 
And  to  the  place  where  all  our  perilles  dwell; 
Here  hauntes  that  feend,  and  does  his  dayly  spoyle; 
Therefore,  henceforth,  bee  at  your  keeping  well, 
And  ever  ready  for  your  foeman  fell: 
The  sparke  of  noble  corage  now  awake, 
And  strive  your  excellent  selfe  to  excell: 
That  shall  ye  evermore  renowmed  make 
Above  all  knights  on  earth,  that  batteill  undertake." 

in.  And  pointing  forth,  "  Lo !  yonder  is,"  (said  she) 
"  The  brasen  towre,  in  which  my  parents  deare 
For  dread  of  that  huge  feend  emprisond  be; 
Whom  I  from  far  see  on  the  walles  appeare, 
Whose  sight  my  feeble  soule  doth  greatly  cheare: 
And  on  the  top  of  all  I  do  espye 
The  watchman  way  ting  ty  dings  glad  to  heare; 
That,  (0  my  Parents !)  might  I  happily 
Unto  you  bring,  to  ease  you  of  your  misery !  " 

iv.  With  that  they  heard  a  roaring  hideous  sownd, 
That  all  the  ayre  with  terror  rilled  wyde, 
And  seemd  uneath  to  shake  the  stedfast  ground. 

i  46  The  Faerie  Queene 

Eftsoones  that  dreadful  Dragon  they  espyde, 

Where  stretcht  he  lay  upon  the  sunny  side 

Of  a  great  hill,  himself e  like  a  great  hill : 

But,  all  so  soone  as  he  from  far  descryde 

Those  glistring  amies  that  heven  with  light  did  fill, 

He  rousd  himselfe  full  blyth,  and  hastned  them  untill. 

v.  Then  badd  the  knight  his  Lady  yede  aloof, 
And  to  an  hill  herself e  withdraw  asyde; 
From  whence  she  might  behold  that  battailles  proof, 
And  eke  be  safe  from  daunger  far  descryde. 
She  him  obayd,  and  turned  a  little  wyde. — 
Now,  0  thou  sacred  Muse !  most  learned  Dame, 
Fayre  ympe  of  Phoebus  and  his  aged  bryde, 
The  Nourse  of  time  and  everlasting  fame, 
That  warlike  handes  ennoblest  with  immortall  name; 

vi.  0!  gently  come  into  my  feeble  brest; 

Come  gently,  but  not  with  that  mightie  rage, 
Wherewith  the  martiall  troupes  thou  doest  infest, 
And  hartes  of  great  Heroes  doest  enrage, 
That  nought  their  kindled  corage  may  as  wage: 
Soone  as  thy  dreadfull  trompe  begins  to  sownd, 
The  God  of  warre  with  his  fiers  equipage 
Thou  doest  awake,  sleepe  never  he  so  sownd; 
And  scared  nations  doest  with  horror  sterne  astownd. 

vii.  Fayre  Goddesse,  lay  that  furious  fitt  asyde, 
Till  I  of  warres  and  bloody  Mars  doe  sing, 
And  Bryton  fieldes  with  Sarazin  blood  bedyde, 
Twixt  that  great  faery  Queene  and  Paynim  king, 
That  with  their  horror  heven  and  earth  did  ring; 
A  worke  of  labour  long,  and  endlesse  prayse: 
But  now  a  while  lett  downe  that  haughtie  string, 
And  to  my  tunes  thy  second  tenor  rayse, 
That  I  this  man  of  God  his  godly  armes  may  blaze. 

viii.  By  this,  the  dreadful  Beast  drew  nigh  to  hand, 
Halfe  flying  and  halfe  footing  in  his  haste, 
That  with  his  largenesse  measured  much  land, 
And  made  wide  shadow  under  his  huge  waste, 
As  mountaine  doth  the  valley  overcaste, 
Approching  nigh,  he  reared  high  afore 

Book  I — Canto  XI  147 

His  body  monstrous,  horrible,  and  vaste; 

Which,  to  increase  his  wondrous  greatnes  more, 

Was  swoln  with  wrath  and  poyson,  and  with  bloody  gore ; 

ix.  And  over  all  with  brasen  scales  was  armd, 
Like  plated  cote  of  Steele,  so  couched  neare 
That  nought  mote  perce ;   ne  might  his  corse  bee  harmd 
With  dint  of  swerd,  nor  push  of  pointed  speare: 
Which  as  an  Eagle,  seeing  pray  appeare, 
His  aery  plumes  doth  rouze,  full  rudely  dight; 
So  shaked  he,  that  horror  was  to  heare: 
For  as  the  clashing  of  an  Armor  bright, 
Such  noyse  his  rouzed  scales  did  send  unto  the  knight, 

x.  His  flaggy  winges,  when  forth  he  did  display, 
Were  like  two  sayles,  in  which  the  hollow  wynd 
Is  gathered  full,  and  worketh  speedy  way: 
And  eke  the  pennes,  that  did  his  pineons  bynd, 
Were  like  mayne-yardes  with  flying  canvas  lynd; 
With  which  whenas  him  list  the  ayre  to  beat, 
And  there  by  force  unwonted  passage  fynd, 
The  cloudes  before  him  fledd  for  terror  great, 
And  all  the  hevens  stood  still  amazed  with  his  threat. 

xi.  His  huge  long  tayle,  wownd  up  in  hundred  foldes, 
Does  overspred  his  long  bras-scaly  back, 
Whose  wreathed  boughtes  when  ever  he  unfoldes, 
And  thick  entangled  knots  adown  does  slack, 
Bespotted  as  with  shieldes  of  red  and  blacke, 
It  sweepeth  all  the  land  behind  him  farre, 
And  of  three  furlongs  does  but  litle  lacke; 
And  at  the  point  two  stinges  in  fixed  arre, 
Both  deadly  sharp,  that  sharpest  Steele  exceeden  farre. 

en.  But  stinges  and  sharpest  Steele  did  far  exceed 
The  sharpnesse  of  his  cruel  rending  clawes : 
Dead  was  it  sure,  as  sure  as  death  in  deed, 
What  ever  thing  does  touch  his  ravenous  pawes, 
Or  what  within  his  reach  he  ever  drawes. 
But  his  most  hideous  head  my  tongue  to  tell 
Does  tremble;  for  his  deepe  devouring  jawes 
Wyde  gaped,  like  the  griesly  mouth  of  hell, 
Through  which  into  his  darke  abysse  all  ravin  fell. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  And,  that  more  wondrous  was,  in  either  jaw 
Three  ranckes  of  yron  teeth  enraunged  were, 
In  which  yett  trickling  blood,  and  gobbets  raw, 
Of  late  devoured  bodies  did  appeare, 
That  sight  thereof  bredd  cold  congealed  f eare ; 
Which  to  increase,  and  all  atonce  to  kill, 
A  cloud  of  smoothering  smoke,  and  sulphure  seare, 
Out  of  his  stinking  gorge  forth  steemed  still, 
That  all  the  ayre  about  with  smoke  and  stench  did  fill, 

xiv.  His  blazing  eyes,  like  two  bright  shining  shieldes, 
Did  burne  with  wrath,  and  sparkled  living  fyre: 
As  two  broad  Beacons,  sett  in  open  fieldes, 
Send  forth  their  flames  far  off  to  every  shyre, 
And  warning  give  that  enimies  conspyre 
With  fire  and  sword  the  region  to  invade: 
So  flam'd  his  eyne  with  rage  and  rancorous  yre; 
But  far  within,  as  in  a  hollow  glade, 
Those  glaring  lampes  were  sett  that  made  a  dreadf  ull  shade. 

xv.  So  dreadfully  he  towardes  him  did  pas, 
Forelifting  up  a-loft  his  speckled  brest, 
And  often  bounding  on  the  brused  gras, 
As  for  great  joyance  of  his  newcome  guest. 
Eftsoones  he  gan  advance  his  haughty  crest, 
As  chauffed  Bore  his  bristles  doth  upreare; 
And  shoke  his  scales  to  battaile  ready  drest, 
That  made  the  Redcrosse  knight  nigh  quake  for  feare, 
As  bidding  bold  defyaunce  to  his  foeman  neare, 

xvi.  The  knight  gan  fayrely  couch  his  steady  speare, 
And  fiersely  ran  at  him  with  rigorous  might: 
The  pointed  Steele,  arriving  rudely  theare, 
His  harder  hyde  would  nether  perce  nor  bight, 
But,  glauncing  by,  foorth  passed  forward  right* 
Yet  sore  amoved  with  so  puissaunt  push, 
The  wrathfull  beast  about  him  turned  light, 
And  him  so  rudely,  passing  by,  did  brush 
With  his  long  tayle,  that  horse  and  man  to  ground  did  rush. 

xvii.  Both  horse  and  man  up  lightly  rose  againe, 
And  fresh  encounter  towardes  him  addrest; 
But  th'  ydle  stroke  yet  backe  recoyld  in  vaine,  | 

Book  I — Canto  XI  149 

And  found  no  place  his  deadly  point  to  rest. 

Exceeding  rage  enflam'd  the  furious  Beast, 

To  be  avenged  of  so  great  despight; 

For  never  felt  his  imperceable  brest 

So  wondrous  force  from  hand  of  living  wight; 

Yet  had  he  prov'd  the  powre  of  many  a  puissant  knight. 

xviii.  Then,  with  his  waving  wings  displayed  wyde, 
Himselfe  up  high  he  lifted  from  the  ground, 
And  with  strong  flight  did  forcibly  divyde 
The  yielding  ayre,  which  nigh  too  feeble  found 
Her  flitting  parts,  and  element  unsound, 
To  beare  so  great  a  weight :  he,  cutting  way 
With  his  broad  sayles,  about  him  soared  round ; 
At  last,  low  stouping  with  unweldy  sway, 
Snatcht  up  both  horse  and  man,  to  beare  them  quite  away. 

xix.  Long  he  them  bore  above  the  subject  plaine, 
So  far  as  Ewghen  bow  a  shaft  may  send, 
Till  struggling  strong  did  him  at  last  constraine 
To  let  them  downe  before  his  flightes  end: 
As  hagard  hauke,  presuming  to  contend 
With  hardy  fowle  above  his  hable  might, 
His  wearie  pounces  all  in  vaine  doth  spend 
To  trusse  the  pray  too  heavy  for  his  flight; 
Which,  comming  down  to  ground,  does  free  it  self e  by  fight. 

xx.  He  so  disseized  of  his  gryping  grosse, 

The  knight  his  thrillant  speare  againe  assay d 

In  his  bras-plated  body  to  embosse, 

And  three  mens  strength  unto  the  stroake  he  layd; 

Wherewith  the  stifle  beame  quaked  as  affrayd, 

And  glauncing  from  his  scaly  necke  did  glyde 

Close  under  his  left  wing,  then  broad  displayd : 

The  percing  Steele  there  wrought  a  wound  full  wyde, 

That  with  the  uncouth  smart  the  Monster  lowdly  cryde. 

xxi.  He  cryde,  as  raging  seas  are  wont  to  rore 

When  wintry  storme  his  wrathful  wreck  does  threat; 

The  rolling  billowes  beate  the  ragged  shore, 

As  they  the  earth  would  shoulder  from  her  seat; 

And  greedy  gulfe  does  gape,  as  he  would  eat 

His  neighbour  element  in  his  revenge: 

150  The  Faerie  Queene 

Then  gin  the  blustring  brethren  boldly  threat 
To  move  the  world  from  off  his  stedfast  henge, 
And  boystrous  battaile  make,  each  other  to  avenge, 

xxii.  The  steely  head  stuck  fast  still  in  his  flesh, 

Till  with  his  cruell  clawes  he  snatcht  the  wood, 

And  quite  a  sunder  broke.     Forth  flowed  fresh 

A  gushing  river  of  blacke  gory  blood, 

That  drowned  all  the  land  whereon  he  stood ; 

The  streame  thereof  would  drive  a  water-mill: 

Trebly  augmented  was  his  furious  mood 

With  bitter  sence  of  his  deepe  rooted  ill, 

That  flames  of  fire  he  threw  forth  from  his  large  nosethril 

xxiii.  His  hideous  tayle  then  hurled  he  about, 

And  therewith  all  enwrapt  the  nimble  thyes 
Of  his  froth-fomy  steed,  whose  courage  stout 
Striving  to  loose  the  knott  that  fast  him  tyes, 
Himselfe  in  streighter  bandes  too  rash  implyes, 
That  to  the  ground  he  is  perforce  constraynd 
To  throw  his  ryder;  who  can  quickly  ryse 
From  off  the  earth,  with  durty  blood  distaynd, 
For  that  reprochfull  fall  right  fowly  he  disdaynd; 

xxiv.  And  fercely  tooke  his  trenchand  blade  in  hand, 
With  which  he  stroke  so  furious  and  so  fell, 
That  nothing  seemd  the  puissaunce  could  withstand : 
Upon  his  crest  the  hardned  yron  fell, 
But  his  more  hardned  crest  was  armd  so  well, 
That  deeper  dint  therein  it  would  not  make ; 
Yet  so  extremely  did  the  buffe  him  quell, 
That  from  thenceforth  he  shund  the  like  to  take, 
But  when  he  saw  them  come  he  did  them  still  forsake. 

xxv.  The  knight  was  wroth  to  see  his  stroke  beguyld, 
And  smot  againe  with  more  outrageous  might; 
But  backe  againe  the  sparcling  Steele  recoyld, 
And  left  not  any  marke  where  it  did  light, 
As  if  in  Adamant  rocke  it  had  beene  pight. 
The  beast,  impatient  of  his  smarting  wound 
And  of  so  fierce  and  forcible  despight, 
Thought  with  his  winges  to  stye  above  the  ground ; 
But  his  late  wounded  wing  unserviceable  found. 

Book  I — Canto  XI  151 

xxvi.  Then  full  of  griefe  and  anguish  vehement, 

He  lowdly  brayd,  that  like  was  never  heard; 

And  from  his  wide  devouring  oven  sent 

A  flake  of  fire,  that  flashing  in  his  beard 

Him  all  amazd,  and  almost  made  afeard : 

The  scorching  flame  sore  swinged  all  his  face, 

And  through  his  armour  all  his  body  seard, 

That  he  could  not  endure  so  cruell  cace, 

But  thought  his  armes  to  leave,  and  helmet  to  unlace, 

xxvii.  Not  that  great  Champion  of  the  antique  world, 
Whom  famous  Poetes  verse  so  much  doth  vaunt, 
And  hath  for  twelve  huge  labours  high  extold, 
So  many  furies  and  sharpe  fits  did  haunt, 
When  him  the  poysoned  garment  did  enchaunt, 
When  Centaures  blood  and  bloody  verses  charmd; 
As  did  this  knight  twelve  thousand  dolours  daunt, 
Whom  fyrie  Steele  now  burnt,  that  erst  him  armd ; 
That  erst  him  goodly  armd,  now  most  of  all  him  harmd. 

xxviii.  Faynt,  wearie,  sore,  emboyled,  grieved,  brent, 

With  heat,  toyle,  wounds,  armes,  smart,  and  inward  fire, 

That  never  man  such  mischiefes  did  torment: 

Death  better  were ;  death  did  he  oft  desire, 

But  death  will  never  come  when  needes  require. 

Whom  so  dismayd  when  that  his  foe  beheld, 

He  cast  to  suffer  him  no  more  respire, 

But  gan  his  sturdy  sterne  about  to  weld, 

And  him  so  strongly  stroke,  that  to  the  ground  him  feld. 

xxix.  It  fortuned,  (as  fayre  it  then  befell) 

Behynd  his  backe,  unweeting,  where  he  stood, 
Of  auncient  time  there  was  a  springing  well, 
From  which  fast  trickled  forth  a  silver  flood, 
Full  of  great  vertues,  and  for  med'cine  good: 
Whylome,  before  that  cursed  Dragon  got 
That  happy  land,  and  all  with  innocent  blood 
Defyld  those  sacred  waves,  it  rightly  hot 
The  well  of  life,  ne  yet  his  vertues  had  forgot: 

xxx.  For  unto  life  the  dead  it  could  restore, 

And  guilt  of  sinfull  crimes  cleane  wash  away ; 
Those  that  with  sicknesse  were  infected  sore 

152  The  Faerie  Queene 

It  could  recure;  and  aged  long  decay 

Renew,  as  one  were  borne  that  very  day. 

Both  Silo  this,  and  Jordan,  did  excell, 

And  th'  English  Bath,  and  eke  the  German  Spaii; 

Ne  can  Cephise,  nor  Hebrus,  match  this  well  : 

Into  the  same  the  knight  back  overthrowen  fell. 

xxxi.  Now  gan  the  golden  Phoebus  for  to  steepe 
His  flerie  face  in  billowes  of  the  west, 
And  his  faint  steedes  watred  in  Ocean  deepe, 
Whiles  from  their  journall  labours  they  did  rest; 
When  that  infernall  Monster,  having  kest 
His  wearie  foe  into  that  living  well, 
Gan  high  advaunce  his  broad  discoloured  brest 
Above  his  wonted  pitch,  with  countenance  fell, 
And  clapt  his  yron  wings  as  victor  he  did  dwell. 

xxxii.  Which  when  his  pensive  Lady  saw  from  farre, 
Great  woe  and  sorrow  did  her  soule  assay, 
As  weening  that  the  sad  end  of  the  warre; 
And  gan  to  highest  God  entirely  pray 
That  feared  chaunce  from  her  to  turne  away: 
With  folded  hands,  and  knees  full  lowly  bent, 
.    All  night  shee  watcht,  ne  once  adowne  would  lay 
Her  dainty  limbs  in  her  sad  dreriment, 
But  praying  still  did  wake,  and  waking  did  lament. 

xxxiii.  The  morrow  next  gan  earely  to  appeare, 
That  Titan  rose  to  runne  his  daily  race; 
But  earely,  ere  the  morrow  next  gan  reare 
Out  of  the  sea  faire  Titans  deawy  face, 
Up  rose  the  gentle  virgin  from  her  place, 
And  looked  all  about,  if  she  might  spy 
Her  loved  knight  to  move  his  manly  pace: 
For  she  had  great  doubt  of  his  safety, 
Since  late  she  saw  him  fall  before  his  enimy. 

xxxiv.  At  last  she  saw  where  he  upstarted  brave 
Out  of  the  well,  wherein  he  drenched  lay : 
As  Eagle,  fresh  out  of  the  ocean  wave, 
Where  he  hath  lefte  his  plumes  all  hory  gray, 
And  deckt  himselfe  with  fethers  youthly  gay, 
Like  Eyas  hauke  up  mounts  unto  the  skies, 

Book  I — Canto  XI 


His  newly-budded  pineons  to  assay, 

And  marveiles  at  himself e  stil  as  he  flies: 

So  new  this  new-borne  knight  to  battell  new  did  rise. 

xxxv.  Whom  when  the  damned  feend  so  fresh  did  spy 
No  wonder  if  he  wondred  at  the  sight, 
And  doubted  whether  his  late  enimy 
It  were,  or  other  new  supplied  knight. 
He  now,  to  prove  his  late-renewed  might, 
High  brandishing  his  bright  deaw-burning  blade, 
Upon  his  crested  scalp  so  sore  did  smite, 
That  to  the  scull  a  yawning  wound  it  made: 
The  deadly  dint  his  dulled  sences  all  dismaid. 

xxxvi.  I  wote  not  whether  the  revenging  Steele 
Were  hardned  with  that  holy  water  dew 
Wherein  he  fell,  or  sharper  edge  did  feele, 
Or  his  baptized  hands  now  greater  grew, 
Or  other  secret  vertue  did  ensew; 
Els  never  could  the  force  of  fleshly  arme, 
Ne  molten  mettall,  in  his  blood  embrew; 
For  till  that  stownd  could  never  wight  him  harme 
By  subtilty,  nor  slight,  nor  might,  nor  mighty  charme. 

xxxvu.  The  cruell  wound  enraged  him  so  sore, 
That  loud  he  yelled  for  exceeding  paine ; 
As  hundred  ramping  Lions  seemd  to  rore, 
Whom  ravenous  hunger  did  thereto  constraine: 
Then  gan  he  tosse  aloft  his  stretched  traine, 
And  therewith  scourge  the  buxome  aire  so  sore, 
That  to  his  force  to  yielden  it  was  faine ; 
Ne  ought  his  sturdy  strokes  might  stand  afore, 
That  high  trees  overthrew,  and  rocks  in  peeces  tore. 

xxxvui.  The  same  advauncing  high  above  his  head, 

With  sharpe  intended  sting  so  rude  him  smott, 

That  to  the  earth  him  drove,  as  stricken  dead; 

Ne  living  wight  would  have  him  life  behott: 

The  mortall  sting  his  angry  needle  shott 

Quite  through  his  shield,  and  in  his  shoulder  seasd, 

Where  fast  it  stucke,  ne  would  thereout  be  gott: 

The  griefe  thereof  him  wondrous  sore  diseasd, 

Ne  might  his  rancling  paine  with  patience  be  appeasd. 

i  54  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  But  yet,  more  mindfull  of  his  honour  deare 

Then  of  the  grievous  smart  which  him  did  wring, 

From  loathed  soile  he  can  him  lightly  reare, 

And  strove  to  loose  the  far  infixed  sting: 

Which  when  in  vaine  he  tryde  with  struggeling, 

Inflam'd  with  wrath,  his  raging  blade  he  hefte, 

And  strooke  so  strongly,  that  the  knotty  string 

Of  his  huge  taile  he  quite  a  sonder  clef te ; 

Five  joints  thereof  he  hewd,and  but  the  stump  him  lefte. 

XL.  Hart  cannot  thinke  what  outrage  and  what  cries, 
With  fowle  enfouldred  smoake  and  flashing  fire, 
The  hell-bred  beast  threw  forth  unto  the  skies, 
That  all  was  covered  with  darknesse  dire : 
Then,  fraught  with  rancour  and  engorged  yre, 
He  cast  at  once  him  to  avenge  for  all, 
And,  gathering  up  himself e  out  of  the  mire 
With  his  uneven  wings,  did  fiercely  fall 
Upon  his  sunne-bright  shield,  and  grypt  it  fast  withall. 

xli.  Much  was  the  man  encombred  with  his  hold, 
In  feare  to  lose  his  weapon  in  his  paw, 
Ne  wist  yett  how  his  talaunts  to  unfold; 
Nor  harder  was  from  Cerberus  greedy  jaw 
To  plucke  a  bone,  then  from  his  cruell  claw 
To  reave  by  strength  the  griped  gage  away: 
Thrise  he  assayd  it  from  his  foote  to  draw, 
And  thrise  in  vaine  to  draw  it  did  assay ; 
It  booted  nought  to  thinke  to  robbe  him  of  his  pray. 

xlii.  Tho,  when  he  saw  no  power  might  prevaile, 
His  trusty  sword  he  cald  to  his  last  aid, 
Wherewith  he  fiersly  did  his  foe  assaile, 
And  double  blowes  about  him  stoutly  laid, 
That  glauncing  fire  out  of  the  yron  plaid, 
As  sparkles  from  the  Andvile  use  to  fly, 
When  heavy  hammers  on  the  wedge  are  swaid: 
Therewith  at  last  he  forst  him  to  unty 
One  of  his  grasping  feete,  him  to  defend  thereby* 

xliii.  The  other  foote,  fast  fixed  on  his  shield, 

Whenas  no  strength  nor  stroks  mote  him  constraine 
To  loose,  ne  yet  the  warlike  pledge  to  yield, 

Book  I — Canto  XI  155 

He  smott  thereat  with  all  his  might  and  maine, 

That  nought  so  wondrous  puissaunce  might  sustaine: 

Upon  the  joint  the  lucky  Steele  did  light, 

And  made  such  way  that  hewd  it  quite  in  twaine; 

The  paw  yett  missed  not  his  minisht  might, 

But  hong  still  on  the  shield,  as  it  at  first  was  pight. 

xliv.  For  griefe  thereof  and  divelish  despight, 
From  his  infernall  fournace  forth  he  threw 
Huge  flames  that  dimmed  all  the  hevens  light, 
Enrold  in  duskish  smoke  and  brimstone  blew: 
As  burning  Aetna  from  his  boyling  stew 
Doth  belch  out  flames,  and  rockes  in  peeces  broke, 
And  ragged  ribs  of  mountaines  molten  new, 
Enwrapt  in  coleblacke  clowds  and  filthy  smoke, 
That  al  the  land  with  stench  and  heven  with  horror  choke. 

xlv.  The  heate  whereof,  and  harmefull  pestilence, 
So  sore  him  noyd,  that  forst  him  to  retire 
A  little  backeward  for  his  best  defence, 
To  save  his  body  from  the  scorching  fire, 
Which  he  from  hellish  entrailes  did  expire. 
It  chaunst,  (eternall  God  that  chaunce  did  guide) 
As  he  recoiled  backeward,  in  the  mire 
His  nigh  foreweried  feeble  feet  did  slide, 
And  downe  he  fell,  with  dread  of  shame  sore  terrifide. 

xl vi.  There  grew  a  goodly  tree  him  faire  beside, 
Loaden  with  fruit  and  apples  rosy  redd, 
As  they  in  pure  vermilion  had  been  dide, 
Whereof  great  vertues  over-all  were  redd ; 
For  happy  life  to  all  which  thereon  fedd, 
And  life  eke  everlasting  did  befall: 
Great  God  it  planted  in  that  blessed  stedd 
With  his  Almighty  hand,  and  did  it  call 
The  tree  of  life,  the  crime  of  our  first  fathers  fall. 

xl vii.  In  all  the  world  like  was  not  to  be  fownd, 

Save  in  that  soile,  where  all  good  things  did  grow, 
And  freely  sprong  out  of  the  fruitfull  grownd, 
As  incorrupted  Nature  did  them  sow, 
Till  that  dredd  Dragon  all  did  overthrow. 
Another  like  faire  tree  eke  grew  thereby, 

156  The  Faerie  Queene 

Whereof  whoso  did  eat,  eftsoones  did  know 

Both  good  and  ill.     0  mournfull  memory ! 

That  tree  through  one  mans  fault  hath  doen  us  all  to  dy. 

xlviii.  From  that  first  tree  forth  flowd,  as  from  a  well, 
A  trickling  streame  of  Balme,  most  soveraine 
And  dainty  deare,  which  on  the  ground  still  fell, 
And  overflowed  all  the  fertile  plaine, 
As  it  had  deawed  bene  with  timely  raine : 
Life  and  long  health  that  gracious  ointment  gave, 
And  deadly  wounds  could  heale,  and  reare  againe 
The  sencelesse  corse  appointed  for  the  grave: 
Into  that  same  he  fell,  which  did  from  death  him  save. 

xlix.  For  nigh  thereto  the  ever  damned  Beast ' 
Durst  not  approch,  for  he  was  deadly  made, 
And  al  that  life  preserved  did  detest; 
Yet  he  it  oft  adventur'd  to  invade. 
By  this  the  drouping  day-light  gan  to  fade, 
And  yield  his  rowme  to  sad  succeeding  night, 
Who  with  her  sable  mantle  gan  to  shade 
The  face  of  earth  and  wayes  of  living  wight, 
And  high  her  burning  torch  set  up  in  heaven  bright. 

L.  When  gentle  Una  saw  the  second  fall 

Of  her  deare  knight,  who,  weary  of  long  fight 

And  faint  through  losse  of  blood,  moov'd  not  at  all, 

But  lay,  as  in  a  dreame  of  deepe  delight, 

Besmeard  with  pretious  Balme,  whose  vertuous  might 

Did  heale  his  woundes,  and  scorching  heat  alay; 

Againe  she  stricken  was  with  sore  affright, 

And  for  his  safetie  gan  devoutly  pray, 

And  watch  the  noyous  night,  and  wait  for  joyous  day. 

li.  The  joyous  day  gan  early  to  appeare; 
And  fayre  Aurora  from  the  deawy  bed 
Of  aged  Tithone  gan  herselfe  to  reare 
With  rosy  cheekes,  for  shame  as  blushing  red : 
Her  golden  locks  for  hast  were  loosely  shed 
About  her  eares,  when  Una  her  did  marke 
Clymbe  to  her  charet,  all  with  flowers  spred, 
From  heven  high  to  chace  the  chearelesse  darke ; 
With  mery  note  her  lowd  salutes  the  mounting  larke. 

Book  I — Canto  XI  157 

lii.  Then  freshly  up  arose  the  doughty  knight, 
All  healed  of  his  hurts  and  woundes  wide, 
And  did  himselfe  to  battaile  ready  dight; 
Whose  early  foe  awaiting  him  beside 
To  have  devourd,  so  soone  as  day  he  spyde, 
When  now  he  saw  himselfe  so  freshly  reare, 
As  if  late  fight  had  nought  him  damnifyde, 
He  woxe  dismaid,  and  gan  his  fate  to  feare : 
Nathlesse  with  wonted  rage  he  him  advaunced  neare< 

liii.  And  in  his  first  encounter,  gaping  wyde, 

He  thought  attonce  him  to  have  swallowd  quight, 

And  rusht  upon  him  with  outragious  pryde ; 

Who  him  rencountring  fierce,  as  hauke  in  flight, 

Perforce  rebutted  backe.     The  weapon  bright, 

Taking  advantage  of  his  open  jaw, 

Ran  through  his  mouth  with  so  importune  might, 

That  deepe  emperst  his  darksom  hollow  maw, 

And,  back  retyrd,  his  life  blood  forth  with  all  did  draw, 

liv.  So  downe  he  fell,  and  forth  his  life  did  breath, 
That  vanisht  into  smoke  and  cloudes  swift; 
So  downe  he  fell,  that  th'  earth  him  underneath 
Did  grone,  as  feeble  so  great  load  to  lift; 
So  downe  he  fell,  as  an  huge  rocky  clift, 
Whose  false  foundacion  waves  have  washt  away, 
With  dreadfull  poyse  is  from  the  mayneland  rift, 
And  rolling  downe  great  Neptune  doth  dismay: 
So  downe  he  fell,  and  like  an  heaped  mountaine  lay* 

lv.  The  knight  him  selfe  even  trembled  at  his  fall, 
So  huge  and  horrible  a  masse  it  seemd ; 
And  his  deare  Lady,  that  beheld  it  all, 
Durst  not  approch  for  dread  which  she  misdeemd; 
But  yet  at  last,  whenas  the  direfull  feend 
She  saw  not  stirre,  off-shaking  vaine  affright 
She  nigher  drew,  and  saw  that  joyous  end : 
Then  God  she  praysd,  and  thankt  her  faithfull  knight, 
That  had  atchievde  so  great  a  conquest  by  his  might. 

i  58  The  Faerie  Queene 


Fayre  Una  to  the  Redcrosse  Knight 
Betrouthed  is  with  joy: 
Though  false  Duessa,  it  to  barre, 
Her  false  sleightes  doe  imploy. 

I.  Behold  !  I  see  the  haven  nigh  at  hand 
To  which  I  meane  my  wearie  course  to  bend ; 
Vere  the  maine  shete,  and  beare  up  with  the  land, 
To  which  afore  is  fayrly  to  be  kend, 
And  seemeth  safe  from  storms  that  may  offend ; 
There  this  fayre  virgin  wearie  of  her  way 
Must  landed  bee,  now  at  her  journeyes  end ; 
There  eke  my  feeble  barke  a  while  may  stay, 
Till  mery  wynd  and  weather  call  her  thence  away. 

II.  Scarsely  had  Phcebus  in  the  glooming  East 
Yett  harnessed  his  fyrie-footed  teeme, 
Ne  reard  above  the  earth  his  flaming  creast, 
When  the  last  deadly  smoke  aloft  did  steeme, 
That  signe  of  last  outbreathed  life  did  seeme 
Unto  the  watchman  on  the  castle-wall; 
Who  thereby  dead  that  balefull  Beast  did  deeme, 
And  to  his  Lord  and  Lady  lowd  gan  call, 
To  tell  how  he  had  seene  the  Dragons  fatall  fall. 

in.  Uprose  with  hasty  joy,  and  feeble  speed, 
That  aged  Syre,  the  Lord  of  all  that  land, 
And  looked  forth,  to  weet  if  trew  indeed 
Those  tydinges  were,  as  he  did  understand : 
Which  whenas  trew  by  try  all  he  out  fond, 
He  badd  to  open  wyde  his  brasen  gate, 
Which  long  time  had  beene  shut,  and  out  of  hond 
Proclaymed  joy  and  peace  through  all  his  state; 
For  dead  now  was  their  foe,  which  them  forrayed  late. 

iv.  Then  gan  triumphant  Trompets  sownd  on  hye, 
That  sent  to  heven  the  ecchoed  report 
Of  their  new  joy,  and  happie  victory 

Book  I — Canto  XII  159 

Gainst  him,  that  had  them  long  opprest  with  tort, 

And  fast  imprisoned  in  sieged  fort. 

Then  all  the  people,  as  in  solemne  feast, 

To  him  assembled  with  one  full  consort, 

Rejoycing  at  the  fall  of  that  great  beast, 

From  whose  eternall  bondage  now  thy  were  releast. 

v.  Forth  came  that  auncient  Lord,  and  aged  Queene, 
Arayd  in  antique  robes  downe  to  the  grownd, 
And  sad  habiliments  right  well  beseene: 
A  noble  crew  about  them  waited  rownd 
Of  sage  and  sober  peres,  all  gravely  gownd ; 
Whom  far  before  did  march  a  goodly  band 
Of  tall  young  men,  all  hable  armes  to  sownd ; 
But  now  they  laurell  braunches  bore  in  hand, 
Glad  signe  of  victory  and  peace  in  all  their  land* 

vi.  Unto  that  doughtie  Conquerour  they  came, 
And  him  before  themselves  prostrating  low, 
Their  Lord  and  Patrone  loud  did  him  proclame, 
And  at  his  feet  their  lawrell  boughes  did  throw* 
Soone  after  them,  all  dauncing  on  a  row, 
The  comely  virgins  came,  with  girlands  dight, 
As  fresh  as  flowres  in  medow  greene  doe  grow 
When  morning  deaw  upon  their  leaves  doth  light ; 
And  in  their  handes  sweet  Timbrels  all  upheld  on  hight, 

vii.  And  them  before  the  fry  of  children  yong 

Their  wanton  sportes  and  childish  mirth  did  play, 

And  to  the  Maydens  sownding  tymbrels  song 

In  well  attuned  notes  a  joyous  lay, 

And  made  delightfull  musick  all  the  way, 

Untill  they  came  where  that  f aire  virgin  stood : 

As  fayre  Diana  in  fresh  sommers  day 

Beholdes  her  nymphes  enraung'd  in  shady  wood, 

Some  wrestle,  some  do  run,  some  bathe  in  christall  flood. 

viii.  So  she  beheld  those  maydens  meriment 

With  chearefull  vew;  who,  when  to  her  they  came,  ~s 
Themselves  to  ground  with  gracious  humblesse  bent, 
And  her  ador'd  by  honorable  name, 
Lifting  to  heven  her  everlasting  fame: 
Then  on  her  head  they  sett  a  girlond  greene, 

160  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  crowned  her  twixt  earnest  and  twixt  game : 

Who,  in  her  self-resemblance  well  beseene, 

Did  seeme,  such  as  she  was,  a  goodly  maiden  Queene. 

ix.  And  after  all  the  raskall  many  ran, 
Heaped  together  in  rude  rablement, 
To  see  the  face  of  that  victorious  man, 
Whom  all  admired  as  from  heaven  sent, 
And  gazd  upon  with  gaping  wonderment ; 
But  when  they  came  where  that  dead  Dragon  lay, 
Stretcht  on  the  ground  in  monstrous  large  extent, 
The  sight  with  ydle  feare  did  them  dismay, 
Ne  durst  approch  him  nigh  to  touch,  or  once  assayi 

x.  Some  feard,  and  fledd;  some  feard,  and  well  it  faynd; 
One,  that  would  wiser  seeme  then  all  the  rest, 
Warnd  him  not  touch,  for  yet  perhaps  remaynd 
Some  lingring  life  within  his  hollow  brest, 
Or  in  his  wombe  might  lurke  some  hidden  nest 
Of  many  Dragonettes,  his  fruitfull  seede : 
Another  saide,  that  in  his  eyes  did  rest 
Yet  sparckling  fyre,  and  badd  thereof  take  heed; 
Another  said,  he  saw  him  move  his  eyes  indeed. 

xi.  One  mother,  whenas  her  foolehardy  chyld 
Did  come  too  neare,  and  with  his  talants  play, 
Halfe  dead  through  feare,  her  litle  babe  revyld, 
And  to  her  gossibs  gan  in  counsell  say; 
"  How  can  I  tell,  but  that  his  talants  may 
Yet  scratch  my  sonne,  or  rend  his  tender  hand  ?  " 
So  diversly  them  selves  in  vaine  they  fray; 
Whiles  some  more  bold  to  measure  him  nigh  stand, 
To  prove  how  many  acres  he  did  spred  of  land, 

xii.  Thus  flocked  all  the  folke  him  rownd  about; 
The  whiles  that  hoarie  king,  with  all  his  traine, 
Being  arrived  where  that  champion  stout 
After  his  foes  defeasaunce  did  remaine, 
Him  goodly  greetes,  and  fayre  does  entertayne 
With  princely  gifts  of  yvory  and  gold, 
And  thousand  thankes  him  yeeldes  for  all  his  paine, 
Then  when  his  daughter  deare  he  does  behold, 
Her  dearely  doth  imbrace,  and  kisseth  manifold* 

Book  I — Canto  XII  161 

xni.  And  after  to  his  Pallace  he  them  bringes, 

With  shaumes,  and  trompets,  and  with  Clarions  sweet; 

And  all  the  way  the  joyous  people  singes, 

And  with  their  garments  strowes  the  paved  street; 

Whence  mounting  up,  they  fynd  purveyaunce  meet 

Of  all,  that  royall  Princes  court  became ; 

And  all  the  floore  was  underneath  their  feet 

Bespredd  with  costly  scarlott  of  great  name, 

On  which  they  lowly  sitt,  and  fitting  purpose  frame. 

xiv.  What  needes  me  tell  their  feast  and  goodly  guize, 
In  which  was  nothing  riotous  nor  vaine  ? 
What  needes  of  dainty  dishes  to  devize, 
Of  comely  services,  or  courtly  trayne  ? 
My  narrow  leaves  cannot  in  them  contayne 
The  large  discourse  of  roiall  Princes  state. 
Yet  was  their  manner  then  but  bare  and  playne ; 
For  th'  antique  world  excesse  and  pryde  did  hate : 
Such  proud  luxurious  pompe  is  swollen  up  but  late. 

xv.  Then,  when  with  meates  and  drinkes  of  every  kinde 
Their  fervent  appetites  they  quenched  had, 
That  auncient  Lord  gan  fit  occasion  finde, 
Of  straunge  adventures,  and  of  perils  sad 
Which  in  his  travell  him  befallen  had, 
For  to  demaund  of  his  renowmed  guest: 
Who  then  with  utt'rance  grave,  and  count'nance  sad, 
From  poynt  to  poynt,  as  is  before  exprest, 
Discourst  his  voyage  long,  according  his  request. 

XVI.  Great  pleasure,  mixt  with  pittiful  regard, 
That  godly  King  and  Queene  did  passionate, 
Whyles  they  his  pittifull  adventures  heard; 
That  oft  they  did  lament  his  lucklesse  state, 
And  often  blame  the  too  importune  fate 
That  heapd  on  him  so  many  wrathfull  wreakes; 
For  never  gentle  knight,  as  he  of  late, 
So  tossed  was  in  fortunes  cruell  freakes : 
And  all  the  while  salt  teares  bedeawd  the  hearers  cheaks. 

xvii.  Then  sayd  that  royall  Pere  in  sober  wise ; 

"  Deare  Sonne,  great  beene  the  evils  which  ye  bore 
From  first  to  last  in  your  late  enterprise, 

1 62  The  Faerie  Queene 

That  I  note  whether  praise  or  pitty  more ; 
For  never  living  man,  I  weene,  so  sore 
In  sea  of  deadly  daungers  was  distrest : 
But  since  now  safe  ye  seised  have  the  shore, 
And  well  arrived  are,  (high  God  be  blest !) 
Let  us  devize  of  ease  and  everlasting  rest." 

xviii.  "  Ah  dearest  Lord !  "  said  then  that  doughty  knight, 
"  Of  ease  or  rest  I  may  not  yet  devize ; 
For  by  the  faith  which  I  to  armes  have  plight, 
I  bownden  am  streight  after  this  emprize, 
As  that  your  daughter  can  ye  well  advize, 
Backe  to  retourne  to  that  great  Faery  Queene, 
And  her  to  serve  sixe  yeares  in  warlike  wize, 
Gainst  that  proud  Paynim  king  that  works  her  teene : 
Therefore  I  ought  crave  pardon,  till  I  there  have  beene." 

Xix.  "  Unhappy  falls  that  hard  necessity/' 

(Quoth  he)  "  the  troubler  of  my  happy  peace, 

And  vowed  foe  of  my  felicity; 

Ne  I  against  the  same  can  justly  preace: 

But  since  that  band  ye  cannot  now  release, 

Nor  doen  undo,  (for  vowes  may  not  be  vayne) 

Soone  as  the  terme  of  those  six  yeares  shall  cease, 

Ye  then  shall  hither  backe  retourne  agayne, 

The  marriage  to  accomplish  vowd  betwixt  you  twaym 

xx.  "  Which,  for  my  part,  I  covet  to  performe 
In  sort  as  through  the  world  I  did  proclame, 
That  who-so  kiid  that  monster  most  deforme, 
And  him  in  hardy  battyle  overcame, 
Should  have  mine  onely  daughter  to  his  Dame, 
And  of  my  kingdome  heyre  apparaunt  bee : 
Therefore,  since  now  to  thee  perteynes  the  same 
By  dew  desert  of  noble  chevalree, 
Both  daughter  and  eke  kingdome  lo !  I  yield  to  thee." 

xxi.  Then  forth  he  called  that  his  daughter  fayre, 
The  fairest  Un',  his  onely  daughter  deare, 
His  onely  daughter  and  his  only  hayre ; 
Who  forth  proceeding  with  sad  sober  cheare, 
As  bright  as  doth  the  morning  starre  appeare 
Out  of  the  East,  with  flaming  lockes  bedight,  '• 

Book  I — Canto  XII  163 

To  tell  that  dawning  day  is  drawing  neare, 

And  to  the  world  does  bring  long -wished  light: 

So  faire  and  fresh  that  Lady  shewd  herselfe  in  sight. 

xxii.  So  faire  and  fresh,  as  freshest  flowre  in  May; 
For  she  had  layd  her  mournefull  stole  aside, 
And  widow-like  sad  wimple  throwne  away, 
Wherewith  her  heavenly  beautie  she  did  hide, 
Whiles  on  her  wearie  journey  she  did  ride; 
And  on  her  now  a  garment  she  did  weare 
All  lilly  white,  withoutten  spot  or  pride, 
That  seemd  like  silke  and  silver  woven  neare : 
But  neither  silke  nor  silver  therein  did  appeare. 

xxiii.  The  blazing  brightnesse  of  her  beauties  beame, 
And  glorious  light  of  her  sunshyny  face, 
To  tell  were  as  to  strive  against  the  streame : 
My  ragged  rimes  are  all  too  rude  and  bace 
Her  heavenly  lineaments  for  to  enchace. 
Ne  wonder;  for  her  own  deare  loved  knight, 
All  were  she  daily  with  himselfe  in  place, 
Did  wonder  much  at  her  celestial  sight: 
Oft  had  he  seene  her  faire,  but  never  so  faire  dight. 

xxiv.  So  fairely  dight  when  she  in  presence  came, 
She  to  her  Syre  made  humble  reverence, 
And  bowed  low,  that  her  right  well  became, 
And  added  grace  unto  her  excellence : 
Who  with  great  wisedome  and  grave  eloquence 
Thus  gan  to  say — But,  eare  he  thus  had  sayd, 
With  flying  speede,  and  seeming  great  pretence, 
Came  running  in,  much  like  a  man  dismayd, 
A  Messenger  with  letters,  which  his  message  sayd. 

xxv.  All  in  the  open  hall  amazed  stood 

At  suddeinnesse  of  that  unwary  sight, 

And  wondred  at  his  breathlesse  hasty  mood : 

But  he  for  nought  would  stay  his  passage  right, 

Till  fast  before  the  king  he  did  alight; 

Where  falling  flat  great  humblesse  he  did  make, 

And  kist  the  ground  whereon  his  foot  was  pight;  ■ 

Then  to  his  handes  that  writt  he  did  betake, 

Which  he  disclosing  read  thus,  as  the  paper  spake : 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  To  thee,  most  mighty  king  of  Eden  fayre, 
Her  greeting  sends  in  these  sad  lines  addrest 
The  wofull  daughter  and  forsaken  heyre 
Of  that  great  Emperour  of  all  the  West; 
And  bids  thee  be  advized  for  the  best. 
Ere  thou  thy  daughter  linck,  in  holy  band 
Of  wedlocke,  to  that  new  unknowen  guest: 
For  he  already  plighted  his  right  hand 
Unto  another  love,  and  to  another  land. 

xxvii.  "  To  me,  sad  mayd,  or  rather  widow  sad, 
He  was  affyaunced  long  time  before, 
And  sacred  pledges  he  both  gave,  and  had, 
False  erraunt  knight,  infamous,  and  forswore ! 
Witnesse  the  burning  Altars,  which  he  swore,  , 
And  guilty  heavens  of  his  bold  perjury ; 
Which  though  he  hath  polluted  oft  of  yore, 
Yet  I  to  them  for  judgement  just  doe  fly, 
And  them  conjure  t 'avenge  this  shamefull  injury, 

xxviii.  "  Therefore,  since  mine  he  is,  or  free  or  bond, 
Or  false,  or  trew,  or  living  or  else  dead, 
Withhold,  O  soverayne  Prince !  your  hasty  hond 
From  knitting  league  with  him,  I  you  aread ; 
Ne  weene  my  right  with  strength  adowne  to  tread, 
Through  weaknesse  of  my  widowhed  or  woe ; 
For  truth  is  strong  her  rightfull  cause  to  plead, 
And  shall  finde  friends,  if  need  requireth  soe. 
So  bids  thee  well  to  fare,  Thy  neither  friend  nor  foe, 

xxix.  When  he  these  bitter  byting  wordes  had  red, 
The  ty dings  straunge  did  him  abashed  make, 
That  still  he  sate  long  time  astonished, 
As  in  great  muse,  ne  word  to  creature  spake. 
At  last  his  solemn  silence  thus  he  brake, 
With  doubtfull  eyes  fast  fixed  on  his  guest : 
"  Redoubted  knight,  that  for  myne  only  sake 
Thy  life  and  honor  late  adventurest, 
Let  nought  be  hid  from  me  that  ought  to  be  exprest. 

xxx.  "  What  meane  these  bloody  vowes  and  idle  threats, 
Throwne  out  from  womanish  impatient  mynd  ? 
What  hevens  ?  what  altars  ?  what  enraged  heates, 

Book  I — Canto  XII 


Here  heaped  up  with  termes  of  love  unkynd, 

My  conscience  cleare  with  guilty  bands  would  bynd? 

High  God  be  witnesse  that  I  guiltlesse  ame; 

But  if  yourselfe,  Sir  knight,  ye  faulty  fynd, 

Or  wrapped  be  in  loves  of  former  Dame, 

With  cryme  doe  not  it  cover,  but  disclose  the  same." 

xxxi.  To  whom  the  Redcrosse  knight  this  answere  sent: 
"  My  Lord,  my  king,  be  nought  hereat  dismayd, 
Till  well  ye  wote  by  grave  intendiment, 
What  woman,  and  wherefore,  doth  me  upbrayd 
With  breach  of  love  and  loialty  betrayd. 
It  was  in  my  mishaps,  as  hitherward 
I  lately  traveild,  that  unwares  I  strayd 
Out  of  my  way,  through  perils  straunge  and  hard, 
That  day  should  faile  me  ere  I  had  them  all  declard. 

xxxii.  "  There  did  I  find,  or  rather  I  was  fownd 
Of  this  false  woman  that  Fidessa  hight, 
Fidessa  hight  the  falsest  Dame  on  grownd, 
Most  false  Duessa,  royall  richly  dight, 
That  easy  was  t'  inveigle  weaker  sight: 
Who  by  her  wicked  arts  and  wylie  skill, 
Too  false  and  strong  for  earthly  skill  or  might, 
Unwares  me  wrought  unto  her  wicked  will, 
And  to  my  foe  betrayd  when  least  I  feared  ill." 

xxxiii.  Then  stepped  forth  the  goodly  royall  Mayd, 
And  on  the  ground  herselfe  prostrating  low, 
With  sober  countenance  thus  to  him  sayd : 
"  0 !  pardon  me,  my  soveraine  Lord,  to  sheow 
The  secret  treasons,  which  of  late  I  know 
To  have  bene  wrought  by  that  false  sorceresse: 
Shee,  onely  she,  it  is,  that  earst  did  throw 
This  gentle  knight  into  so  great  distresse, 
That  death  him  did  awaite  in  daily  wretchednesse. 

xxxiv.  "  And  now  it  seemes,  that  she  suborned  hath 
This  crafty  messenger  with  letters  vaine, 
To  worke  new  woe  and  improvided  scath, 
By  breaking  of  the  band  betwixt  us  twaine; 
Wherein  she  used  hath  the  practicke  paine 
Of  this  false  footman,  clokt  with  simplenesse, 

i  66  The  Faerie  Queene 

Whome  if  ye  please  for  to  discover  plaine, 

Ye  shall  him  Archimago  find,  I  ghesse, 

The  falsest  man  alive:  who  tries,  shall  find  no  lesse." 

xxxv.  The  king  was  greatly  moved  at  her  speach; 
And,  all  with  sudden  indignation  fraight, 
Bad  on  that  Messenger  rude  hands  to  reach. 
Eftsoones  the  Gard,  which  on  his  state  did  wait, 
Attacht  that  faytor  false,  and  bound  him  strait, 
Who  seeming  sorely  chauffed  at  his  band, 
As  chained  beare  whom  cruell  dogs  doe  bait, 
With  ydle  force  did  faine  them  to  withstand, 
And  often  semblaunce  made  to  scape  out  of  their  hand. 

xxxvi.  But  they  him  layd  low  in  dungeon  deepe, 

And  bound  him  hand  and  foote  with  yron  chains; 
And  with  continual  watch  did  warely  keepe. 
Who  then  would  thinke  that  by  his  subtile  trains 
He  could  escape  fowle  death  or  deadly  pains  ? 
Thus,  when  that  Princes  wrath  was  pacifide, 
He  gan  renew  the  late  forbidden  bains, 
And  to  the  knight  his  daughter  deare  he  tyde 
With  sacred  rites  and  vowes  for  ever  to  abyde* 

xxxvii.  His  owne  two  hands  the  holy  knotts  did  knitt, 
That  none  but  death  for  ever  can  divide; 
His  owne  two  hands,  for  such  a  turne  most  fitt, 
The  housling  fire  did  kindle  and  provide, 
And  holy  water  thereon  sprinckled  wide; 
At  which  the  bushy  Teade  a  groome  did  light, 
And  sacred  lamp  in  secret  chamber  hide, 
Where  it  should  not  be  quenched  day  nor  night, 
For  feare  of  evil  fates,  but  burnen  ever  bright. 

xxxviii.  Then  gan  they  sprinckle  all  the  posts  with  wine, 
And  made  great  feast  to  solemnize  that  day: 
They  all  perfumde  with  frankincense  divine, 
And  precious  odours  fetcht  from  far  away, 
That  all  the  house  did  sweat  with  great  aray: 
And  all  the  while  sweete  Musicke  did  apply 
Her  curious  skill  the  warbling  notes  to  play, 
To  drive  away  the  dull  Melancholy; 
The  whiles  one  sung  a  song  of  love  and  jollity. 

Book  I — Canto  XII  167 

xxxix.  During  the  which  there  was  an  heavenly  noise 
Heard  sownd  through  all  the  Pallace  pleasantly, 
Like  as  it  had  bene  many  an  Angels  voice 
Singing  before  th'  eternall  majesty, 
In  their  trinall  triplicities  on  hye: 
Yett  wist  no  creature  whence  that  hevenly  sweet 
Proceeded,  yet  each  one  felt  secretly 
Himselfe  thereby  refte  of  his  sences  meet, 
And  ravished  with  rare  impression  in  his  sprite. 

xl.  Great  joy  was  made  that  day  of  young  and  old, 
And  solemne  feast  proclaymd  throughout  the  land, 
That  their  exceeding  merth  may  not  be  told:  j 
Suffice  it  heare  by  signes  to  understand 
The  usuall  joyes  at  knitting  of  loves  band. 
Thrise  happy  man  the  knight  himselfe  did  hold, 
Possessed  of  his  Ladies  hart  and  hand; 
And  ever,  when  his  eie  did  her  behold, 
His  heart  did  seeme  to  melt  in  pleasures  manifold. 

xli.  Her  joyous  presence,  and  sweet  company, 
In  full  content  he  there  did  long  enjoy; 
Ne  wicked  envy,  ne  vile  gealosy, 
His  deare  delights  were  hable  to  annoy: 
Yet,  swimming  in  that  sea  of  blisfull  joy, 
He  nought  forgott  how  he  whilome  had  sworne, 
In  case  he  could  that  monstrous  beast  destroy, 
Unto  his  Faery  Queene  backe  to  retourne; 
The  which  he  shortly  did,  and  Una  left  to  mourn?. 

xlii.  Now,  strike  your  sailes,  yee  jolly  Mariners, 
For  we  be  come  unto  a  quiet  rode, 
Where  we  must  land  some  of  our  passengers, 
And  light  this  weary  vessell  of  her  lode: 
Here  she  a  while  may  make  her  safe  abode, 
Till  she  repaired  have  her  tackles  spent, 
And  wants  supplide ;  And  then  againe  abroad 
On  the  long  voiage  whereto  she  is  bent: 
Well  may  she  speede,  and  fairely  finish  her  intent ! 




I.  Right  well  I  wote,  most  mighty  Soveraine, 
That  all  this  famous  antique  history 
Of  some  th'  aboundance  of  an  ydle  braine 
Will  judged  be,  and  painted  forgery, 
Rather  then  matter  of  just  memory; 
Sith  none  that  breatheth  living  aire  does  know 
Where  is  that  happy  land  of  Faery, 
Which  I  so  much  doe  vaunt,  yet  no  where  show, 
But  vouch  antiquities,  which  no  body  can  know, 

ii.  But  let  that  man  with  better  sence  advize, 
That  of  the  world  least  part  to  us  is  red  ; 
And  daily  how  through  hardy  enterprize 
Many  great  Regions  are  discovered, 
Which  to  late  age  were  never  mentioned^ 
Who  ever  heard  of  th'  Indian  Peru  ? 
Or  who  in  venturous  vessell  measured 
The  Amazon  huge  river,  now  found  trew? 
Or  fruitfullest  Virginia  who  did  ever  vew? 

in.  Yet  all  these  were,  when  no  man  did  them  know, 
Yet  have  from  wisest  ages  hidden  beene; 
And  later  times  thinges  more  unknowne  shall  show. 
Why  then  should  witlesse  man  so  much  misweene, 
That  nothing  is  but  that  which  he  hath  seene  ? 
What  if  within  the  Moones  fayre  shining  spheare, 
What  if  in  every  other  starre  unseene 
Of  other  worldes  he  happily  should  heare, 
He  wonder  would  much  more;  yet  such  to  someappeare. 

iv.  Of  faery  lond  yet  if  he  more  inquyre, 

By  certain  signes,  here  sett  in  sondrie  place, 
He  may  it  fynd;  ne  let  him  then  admyre, 

170  The  Faerie  Queene 

But  yield  his  sence  to  bee  too  blunt  and  bace, 
That  no'te  without  an  hound  fine  footing  trace* 
And  thou,  0  fayrest  Princesse  under  sky ! 
In  this  fayre  mirrhour  maist  behold  thy  face, 
And  thine  owne  realmes  in  lond  of  Faery, 
And  in  this  antique  ymage  thy  great  auncestry* 

v.  The  which  0 !  pardon  me  thus  to  enfold 
In  covert  vele,  and  wrap  in  shadowes  light, 
That  feeble  eyes  your  glory  may  behold, 
Which  ells  could  not  endure  those  beames  bright, 
But  would  bee  dazled  with  exceeding  light. 
O !  pardon,  and  vouchsafe  with  patient  eare 
The  brave  adventures  of  this  faery  knight, 
The  good  Sir  Guyon,  gratiously  to  heare ; 
In  whom  great  rule  of  Temp 'raunce  goodly  doth  appeare. 

Book  II — Canto  I 



Guyon,  by  Archimage  abusd, 
The  Redcrosse  knight  awaytes; 
Fyndes  Mordant  and  Amavia  slaine 
With  pleasures  poisoned  haytes. 

t.  That  conning  Architect  of  cancred  guyle, 
Whom  Princes  late  displeasure  left  in  bands, 
For  falsed  letters  and  suborned  wyle, 
Soone  as  the  Redcrosse  knight  he  understands 
To  beene  departed  out  of  Eden  landes, 
To  serve  againe  his  soveraine  Elfin  Queene, 
His  artes  he  moves,  and  out  of  caytives  handes 
Himself e  he  frees  by  secret  meanes  unseene ; 
His  shackles  emptie  lefte,  himselfe  escaped  cleene. 

11.  And  forth  he  fares,  full  of  malicious  mynd, 
To  worken  mischiefe,  and  avenging  woe, 
Where  ever  he  that  godly  knight  may  fynd, 
His  onely  hart-sore,  and  his  onely  foe; 
Sith  Una  now  he  algates  must  forgoe, 
Whom  his  victorious  handes  did  earst  restore 
To  native  crowne  and  kingdom  late  ygoe; 
Where  she  enjoyes  sure  peace  for  evermore, 
As  wetherbeaten  ship  arryv'd  on  happie  shore. 

in.  Him  therefore  now  the  object  of  his  spight 
And  deadly  food  he  makes:  him  to  offend, 
By  forged  treason  or  by  open  fight, 
He  seekes,  of  all  his  drifte  the  aymed  end: 
Thereto  his  subtile  engins  he  does  bend, 
His  practick  witt  and  his  fayre  fyled  tonge, 
With  thousand  other  sleightes ;  for  well  he  kend 
His  credit  now  in  doubtf ull  ballaunce  hong : 
For  hardly  could  bee  hurt  who  was  already  stong. 

iv.  Still  as  he  went  he  craftie  stales  did  lay, 

With  cunning  traynes  him  to  entrap  unwares, 
And  privy  spyals  plast  in  all  his  way, 

i  72  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  weete  what  course  he  takes,  and  how  he  fares, 

To  ketch  him  at  a  vauntage  in  his  snares. 

But  now  so  wise  and  wary  was  the  knight 

By  tryall  of  his  former  harmes  and  cares, 

That  he  descry de  and  shonned  still  his  slight: 

The  fish  that  once  was  caught  new  bait  wil  hardly  byte. 

v.  Nath'lesse  th'  Enchaunter  would  not  spare  his  payne. 
In  hope  to  win  occasion  to  his  will ; 
Which  when  he  long  awaited  had  in  vayne, 
He  chaungd  his  mynd  from  one  to  other  ill; 
For  to  all  good  he  enimy  was  still. 
Upon  the  way  him  fortuned  to  meete, 
Fayre  marching  underneath  a  shady  hill, 
A  goodly  knight,  all  armd  in  harnesse  meete, 
That  from  his  head  no  place  appeared  to  his  feete. 

vi.  His  carriage  was  full  comely  and  upright; 
His  countenance  demure  and  temperate; 
But  yett  so  sterne  and  terrible  in  sight, 
That  cheard  his  friendes,  and  did  his  foes  amate: 
He  was  an  Elfin  borne  of  noble  state 
And  mickle  worship  in  his  native  land ; 
Well  could  he  tourney,  and  in  lists  debate, 
And  knighthood  tooke  of  good  Sir  Huons  hand, 
When  with  king  Oberon  he  came  to  Faery  land. 

vii.  Him  als  accompanyd  upon  the  way 
A  comely  Palmer,  clad  in  black  attyre, 
Of  rypest  yeares,  and  heares  all  hoarie  gray, 
That  with  a  staffe  his  feeble  steps  did  stire, 
Least  his  long  way  his  aged  limbes  should  tire: 
And,  if  by  lookes  one  may  the  mind  aread, 
He  seemd  to  be  a  sage  and  sober  syre ; 
And  ever  with  slow  pace  the  knight  did  lead, 
Who  taught  his  trampling  steed  with  equall  steps  to  tread 

viii.  Such  whenas  Archimago  them  did  view, 

He  weened  well  to  worke  some  uncouth  wyle: 
Eftsoones  untwisting  his  deceiptfull  clew, 
He  gan  to  weave  a  web  of  wicked  guyle, 
And,  with  faire  countenance  and  flattering  style 
To  them  approaching,  thus  the  knight  bespake ; 

Book  II — Canto  I  173 

"  Fayre  sonne  of  Mars,  that  seeke  with  warlike  spoyle, 
And  great  atchiev'ments,  great  your  selfe  to  make, 
Vouchsafe  to  stay  your  steed  for  humble  misers  sake." 

ix.  He  stayd  his  steed  for  humble  misers  sake, 
And  badd  tell  on  the  tenor  of  his  playnt: 
Who  feigning  then  in  every  limb  to  quake 
Through  inward  feare,  and  seeming  pale  and  faynt, 
With  piteous  mone  his  percing  speach  gan  paynt: 
"  Deare  Lady  I  how  shall  I  declare  thy  cace, 
Whom  late  I  left  in  languorous  constraynt? 
Would  God !  thy  selfe  now  present  were  in  place 
To  tell  this  ruefull  tale:  thy  sight  could  win  thee  grace. 

x.  "  Or  rather  would,  O !    would  it  so  had  chaunst, 
That  you,  most  noble  Sir,  had  present  beene 
When  that  lewd  rybauld,  with  vyle  lust  advaunst, 
Laid  first  his  filthie  hands  on  virgin  cleene, 
To  spoyle  her  dainty  corps,  so  faire  and  sheene 
As  on  the  earth,  great  mother  of  us  all, 
With  living  eye  more  fayre  was  never  seene 
Of  chastity  and  honour  virginall : 
Witnes,  ye  heavens,  whom  she  in  vaine  to  help  did  call." 

XI.  "  How  may  it  be,"  sayd  then  the  knight  halfe  wroth, 
"  That  knight  should  knighthood  ever  so  have  shent?  " 
"  None  but  that  saw,"  (quoth  he) "  would  weene  for  troth, 
How  shamefully  that  Mayd  he  did  torment: 
Her  looser  golden  lockes  he  rudely  rent, 
And  drew  her  on  the  ground;   and  his  sharpe  sword 
Against  her  snowy  brest  he  fiercely  bent, 
And  threatned  death  with  many  a  bloodie  word : 
Tounge  hates  to  tell  the  rest  that  eye  to  see  abhord." 

xii.  Therewith  amoved  from  his  sober  mood, 

"  And  lives  he  yet,"  (said  he)  "  that  wrought  this  act? 

And  doen  the  heavens  afford  him  vitall  food?  " 

"  He  lives,"  (quoth  he)  "  and  boasteth  of  the  fact, 

Ne  yet  hath  any  knight  his  courage  crackt." 

"  Where  may  that  treachour  then,"  (sayd  he)  "  be  found, 

Or  by  what  meanes  may  I  his  footing  tract?  " 

"  That  shall  I  shew,"  (sayd  he)  "  as  sure  as  hound 

The  stricken  Deare  doth  chalenge  by  the  bleeding  wound." 

174  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  He  stayd  not  lenger  talke,  but  with  fierce  yre 
And  zealous  haste  away  is  quickly  gone 
To  seeke  that  knight,  where  him  that  crafty  Squyre 
Supposd  to  be.     They  do  arrive  anone 
Where  sate  a  gentle  Lady  all  alone, 
With  garments  rent,  and  heare  discheveled, 
Wringing  her  handes,  and  making  piteous  mone: 
Her  swollen  eyes  were  much  disfigured, 
And  her  faire  face  with  teares  was  fowly  blubbered. 

xiv.  The  knight,  approching  nigh,  thus  to  her  said : 
"  Fayre  Lady,  through  fowle  sorrow  ill  bedight, 
Great  pitty  is  to  see  you  thus  dismayd, 
And  marre  the  blossom  of  your  beauty  bright: 
For-thy  appease  your  griefe  and  heavy  plight, 
And  tell  the  cause  of  your  conceived  payne ; 
For,  if  he  live  that  hath  you  doen  despight, 
He  shall  you  doe  dew  recompence  agayne, 
Or  els  his  wrong  with  greater  puissance  maintained ' 

xv.  Which  when  she  heard,  as  in  despightfull  wise 
She  wilfully  her  sorrow  did  augment, 
And  oflxed  hope  of  comfort  did  despise: 
Her  golden  lockes  most  cruelly  she  rent, 
And  scratcht  her  face  with  ghastly  dreriment ; 
Ne  would  she  speake,  ne  see,  ne  yet  be  seene, 
But  hid  her  visage,  and  her  head  downe  bent, 
Either  for  grievous  shame,  or  for  great  teene, 
As  if  her  hart  with  sorrow  had  transfixed  beene : 

xvi.  Till  her  that  Squyre  bespake:  "  Madame,  my  liefe, 
For  Gods  deare  love  be  not  so  wilfull  bent, 
But  doe  vouchsafe  now  to  receive  reliefe, 
The  which  good  fortune  doth  to  you  present. 
For  what  bootes  it  to  weepe  and  to  wayment 
When  ill  is  chaunst,  but  doth  the  ill  increase, 
And  the  weake  minde  with  double  woe  torment?  " 
When  she  her  Squyre  heard  speake,  she  gan  appease 
Her  voluntarie  paine,  and  feele  some  secret  ease. 

xvn.  Eftsoone  she  said;  "  Ah!  gentle  trustie  Squyre, 
What  comfort  can  I,  wofull  wretch,  conceave  ? 
Or  why  should  ever  I  henceforth  desyre  j 

Book  II — Canto  I  175 

To  see  faire  heavens  face,  and  life  not  leave, 
Sith  that  false  Traytour  did  my  honour  reave?  " 
"  False  traytour  certes,"  (saide  the  Faerie  knight) 
"  I  read  the  man,  that  ever  would  deceave 
A  gentle  Lady,  or  her  wrong  through  might: 
Death  were  too  litle  paine  for  such  a  fowle  despight. 

XVIII.  "  But  now,  fayre  Lady,  comfort  to  you  make, 

And  read  who  hath  ye  wrought  this  shamefull  plight. 

That  short  revenge  the  man  may  overtake, 

Where-so  he  be,  and  soone  upon  him  light." 

u  Certes,"  (saide  she)  "  I  wote  not  how  he  hight, 

But  under  him  a  gray  steede  he  did  wield, 

Whose  sides  with  dapled  circles  weren  dight; 

Upright  he  rode,  and  in  his  silver  shield 

He  bore  a  blood ie  Crosse  that  quartred  all  the  field.' ' 

xix.  "  Now  by  my  head,"  (saide  Guyon)  "  much  I  muse, 
How  that  same  knight  should  doe  so  fowle  amis, 
Or  ever  gentle  Damzell  so  abuse  : 
For,  may  I  boldly  say,  he  surely  is 
A  right  good  knight,  and  trew  of  word  ywis: 
I  present  was,  and  can  it  witnesse  well, 
When  armes  he  swore,  and  streight  did  enterpris 
Th'  adventure  of  the  Errant  damozell; 
In  which  he  hath  great  glory  wonne,  as  I  heare  tell. 

xx.  "  Nathlesse  he  shortly  shall  againe  be  tryde, 
And  fairely  quit  him  of  th'  imputed  blame; 
Els,  be  ye  sure,  he  dearely  shall  abyde, 
Or  make  you  good  amendment  for  the  same : 
All  wrongs  have  mendes,  but  no  amendes  of  shame. 
Now  therefore,  Lady,  rise  out  of  your  paine, 
And  see  the  salving  of  your  blotted  name." 
Full  loth  she  seemd  thereto,  but  yet  did  faine, 
For  she  was  inly  glad  her  purpose  so  to  gaine. 

xxi.  Her  purpose  was  not  such  as  she  did  faine, 
Ne  yet  her  person  such  as  it  was  seene ; 
But  under  simple  shew,  and  semblant  plaine, 
Lurkt  false  Duessa  secretly  unseene, 
As  a  chaste  Virgin  that  had  wronged  beene : 
So  had  false  Archimago  her  disguysd, 

176  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  cloke  her  guile  with  sorrow  and  sad  teene ; 

And  eke  himselfe  had  craftily  devisd 

To  be  her  Squire,  and  do  her  service  well  aguisd. 

xxii.  Her,  late  forlorne  and  naked,  he  had  found 
Where  she  did  wander  in  waste  wildernesse, 
Lurking  in  rockes  and  caves  far  under  ground, 
And  with  greene  mosse  cov'ring  her  nakednesse 
To  hide  her  shame  and  loathly  filthinesse, 
Sith  her  Prince  Arthur  of  proud  ornaments 
And  borrowed  beauty  spoyld.     Her  nathelesse 
Th'  enchaunter  finding  fit  for  his  intents 
Did  thus  revest,  and  deckt  with  dew  habiliments. 

xxiii.  For  all  he  did  was  to  deceive  good  knights, 

And  draw  them  from  pursuit  of  praise  and  fame 
To  slug  in  slouth  and  sensuall  delights, 
And  end  their  daies  with  irrenowmed  shame.; 
And  now  exceeding  griefe  him  overcame, 
To  see  the  Redcrosse  thus  advaunced  hye; 
Therefore  this  craftie  engine  he  did  frame, 
Against  his  praise  to  stirre  up  enmitye 
Of  such,  as  vertues  like  mote  unto  him  allye. 

xxiv.  So  now  he  Guyon  guydes  an  uncouth  way 

Through  woods  and  mountaines,  till  they  came  at  last 

Into  a  pleasant  dale  that  lowly  lay 

Betwixt  two  hils,  whose  high  heads  overplast 

The  valley  did  with  coole  shade  overcast: 

Through  midst  thereof  a  little  river  rold, 

By  which  there  sate  a  knight  with  helme  unlaste, 

Himselfe  refreshing  with  the  liquid  cold, 

After  his  travell  long  and  labours  manifold. 

xxv.  "  Lo !  yonder  he,"  cryde  Archimage  alowd, 

"  That  wrought  the  shamefull  fact  which  I  did  shew; 

And  now  he  doth  himselfe  in  secret  shrowd, 

To  fly  the  vengeaunce  for  his  outrage  dew : 

But  vaine ;  for  ye  shall  dearely  do  him  rew, 

So  God  ye  speed  and  send  you  good  successe, 

Which  we  far  off  will  here  abide  to  vew," 

So  they  him  left  inflam'd  with  wrathfulnesse, 

That  streight  against  that  knight  his  speare  he  did  addresse. 

Book  II — Canto  I  177 

xxvi.  Who,  seeing  him  from  far  so  fierce  to  pricke, 
His  warlike  armes  about  him  gan  embrace, 
And  in  the  rest  his  ready  speare  did  sticke : 
Tho,  when  as  still  he  saw  him  towards  pace, 
He  gan  rencounter  him  in  equall  race. 
They  bene  ymett,  both  ready  to  afTrap, 
When  suddeinly  that  warriour  gan  abace 
His  threatned  speare,  as  if  some  new  mishap, 
Had  him  betide,  or  hidden  danger  did  entrap; 

xxvii.  And  cryde,  "  Mercie,  Sir  knight!  and  mercie,  Lord, 
For  mine  offence  and  heedelesse  hardiment, 
That  had  almost  committed  crime  abhord, 
And  with  reprochfull  shame  mine  honour  shent, 
Whiles  cursed  Steele  against  that  badge  I  bent, 
The  sacred  badge  of  my  Redeemers  death, 
Which  on  your  shield  is  set  for  ornament !  " 
But  his  fierce  foe  his  steed  could  stay  uneath, 
Who,  prickt  with  courage  kene,  did  cruell  battell  breath. 

xxviii.  But,  when  he  heard  him  speake,  streight  way  he  knew 
His  errour;  and,  himselfe  inclyning,  sayd; 
11  Ah !  deare  Sir  Guyon,  well  becommeth  you, 
But  me  behoveth  rather  to  upbrayd, 
Whose  hastie  hand  so  far  from  reason  strayd, 
That  almost  it  did  haynous  violence 
On  that  fayre  ymage  of  that  heavenly  Mayd, 
That  decks  and  armes  your  shield  with  faire  defence : 
Your  court'sie  takes  on  you  anothers  dew  offence. " 

xxix.  So  beene  they  both  at  one,  and  doen  upreare 
Their  bevers  bright  each  other  for  to  greet; 
Goodly  comportaunce  each  to  other  beare, 
And  entertaine  themselves  with  court'sies  meet. 
Then  said  the  Redcrosse  knight;  "  Now  mote  I  weet, 
Sir  Guyon,  why  with  so  fierce  saliaunce, 
And  fell  intent,  ye  did  at  earst  me  meet; 
For  sith  I  know  your  goodly  governaunce, 
Great  cause,  I  weene,  you  guided,  or  some  uncouth 

xxx.  "  Certes,"  (said  he),  "  well  mote  I  shame  to  tell 
The  fond  encheason  that  me  hither  led. 
A  false  infamous  faitour  late  befell 

178  The  Faerie  Queene 

Me  for  to  meet,  that  seemed  ill  bested, 

And  playnd  of  grievous  outrage,  which  he  red 

A  knight  had  wrought  against  a  Ladie  gent; 

Which  to  avenge  he  to  this  place  me  led, 

Where  you  he  made  the  marke  of  his  intent, 

And  now  is  fled :  foule  shame  him  follow  wher  he  went !  " 

xxxi.  So  can  he  turne  his  earnest  unto  game, 

Through  goodly  handling  and  wise  temperaunce. 

By  this  his  aged  Guide  in  presence  came ; 

Who,  soone  as  on  that  knight  his  eye  did  glaunce, 

Eftsoones  of  him  had  perfect  cognizaunce, 

Sith  him  in  Faery  court  he  late  avizd ; 

And  sayd ;  "  Fayre  sonne,  God  give  you  happy  chaunce, 

And  that  deare  Crosse  uppon  your  shield  devizd, 

Wherewith  above  all  knights  ye  goodly  seeme  aguizd ! 

xxxii.  "  Joy  may  you  have,  and  everlasting  fame, 

Of  late  most  hard  atchiev'ment  by  you  donne, 

For  which  enrolled  is  your  glorious  name 

In  heavenly  Regesters  above  the  Sunne, 

Where  you  a  Saint  with  Saints  your  seat  have  wonne : 

But  wretched  we,  where  ye  have  left  your  marke, 

Must  now  anew  begin  like  race  to  ronne, 

God  guide  thee,  Guyon,  well  to  end  thy  warke, 

And  to  the  wished  haven  bring  thy  weary  barke !  " 

xxxiii.  "  Palmer,"  him  answered  the  Redcrosse  knight, 

"  His  be  the  praise  that  this  atchiev'ment  wrought, 

Who  made  my  hand  the  organ  of  his  might: 

More  then  goodwill  to  me  attribute  nought; 

For  all  I  did,  I  did  but  as  I  ought. 

But  you,  faire  Sir,  whose  pageant  next  ensewes, 

Well  mote  yee  thee,  as  well  can  wish  your  thought, 

That  home  ye  may  report  thrise  happy  newes ; 

For  well  ye  worthy  bene  for  worth  and  gentle  thewes." 

xxxiv.  So  courteous  conge  both  did  give  and  take, 

With  right  hands  plighted,  pledges  of  good  will. 
Then  Guyon  forward  gan  his  voyage  make 
With  his  blacke  Palmer,  that  him  guided  still : 
Still  he  him  guided  over  dale  and  hill, 
And  with  his  steedy  staffe  did  point  his  way ; 

Book  II — Canto  I  179 

His  race  with  reason,  and  with  words  his  will, 
From  fowle  intemperaunce  he  ofte  did  stay, 
And  suffred  not  in  wrath  his  hasty  steps  to  stray. 

xxxv.  In  this  faire  wize  they  traveild  long  yfere, 

Through  many  hard  assayes  which  did  betide; 
Of  which  he  honour  still  away  did  beare, 
And  spred  his  glory  through  all  countryes  wide. 
At  last,  as  chaunst  them  by  a  forest  side 
To  passe,  for  succour  from  the  scorching  ray, 
They  heard  a  ruefull  voice,  that  dearnly  cride 
With  percing  shriekes  and  many  a  dolefull  lay; 
Which  to  attend  awhile  their  forward  steps  they  stay. 

xxxvi.  "  But  if  that  carelesse  hevens,"  (quoth  she)  "  despise 
The  doome  of  just  revenge,  and  take  delight 
To  see  sad  pageaunts  of  mens  miseries, 
As  bownd  by  them  to  live  in  lives  despight; 
Yet  can  they  not  warne  death  from  wretched  wight. 
Come,  then;  come  soone;  come  sweetest  death,  to  me, 
And  take  away  this  long  lent  loathed  light: 
Sharpe  be  thy  wounds,  but  sweete  the  medicines  be, 
That  long  captived  soules  from  weary  thraldome  free. 

xxxvii.  "  But  thou,  sweete  Babe,  whom  frowning  froward  fate 
Hath  made  sad  witnesse  of  thy  fathers  fall, 
Sith  heven  thee  deignes  to  hold  in  living  state, 
Long  maist  thou  live,  and  better  thrive  withall 
Then  to  thy  lucklesse  parents  did  befall. 
Live  thou;  and  to  thy  mother  dead  attest 
That  cleare  she  dide  from  blemish  criminall : 
Thy  litle  hands  embrewd  in  bleeding  brest 
Loe!  I  for  pledges  leave.     So  give  me  leave  to  rest." 

xxxviii.  With  that  a  deadly  shrieke  she  forth  did  throw 
That  through  the  wood  re-echoed  againe ; 
And  after  gave  a  grone  so  deepe  and  low 
That  seemd  her  tender  heart  was  rent  in  twaine, 
Or  thrild  with  point  of  thorough-piercing  paine: 
As  gentle  Hynd,  whose  sides  with  cruell  Steele 
Through  launched,  forth  her  bleeding  life  does  raine, 
Whiles  the  sad  pang  approching  shee  does  feele, 
Braies  out  her  latest  breath,  and  up  her  eies  doth  seele. 

180  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  Which  when  that  warriour  heard,  dismounting  straict 
From  his  tall  steed,  he  rusht  into  the  thick, 
And  soone  arrived  where  that  sad  pourtraict 
Of  death  and  dolour  lay,  halfe  dead,  half e  quick ; 
In  whose  white  alabaster  brest  did  stick 
A  cruell  knife  that  made  a  griesly  wownd, 
From  which  forth  gusht  a  stream  of  gore  blood  thick, 
That  all  her  goodly  garments  staind  arownd, 
And  into  a  deepe  sanguine  dide  the  grassy  grownd. 

XL.  Pitifull  spectacle  of  deadly  smart, 

Beside  a  bubling  fountaine  low  she  lay, 
Which  shee  increased  with  her  bleeding  hart, 
And  the  cleane  waves  with  purple  gore  did  ray: 
Als  in  her  lap  a  lovely  babe  did  play 
His  cruell  sport,  in  stead  of  sorrow  dew; 
For  in  her  streaming  blood  he  did  embay 
His  litle  hands,  and  tender  joints  embrew: 
Pitifull  spectacle,  as  ever  eie  did  vew ! 

xli.  Besides  them  both,  upon  the  soiled  gras 

The  dead  corse  of  an  armed  knight  was  spred, 

Whose  armour  all  with  blood  besprincled  was ; 

His  ruddy  lips  did  smyle,  and  rosy  red 

Did  paint  his  chearefull  cheekes,  yett  being  ded ; 

Seemd  to  have  beene  a  goodly  personage, 

Now  in  his  freshest  flowre  of  lusty -hed, 

Fitt  to  inflame  faire  Lady  with  loves  rage, 

But  that  tiers  fate  did  crop  the  blossome  of  his  age. 

xlii.  Whom  when  the  good  Sir  Guyon  did  behold, 
His  hart  gan  wexe  as  starke  as  marble  stone, 
And  his  fresh  blood  did  frieze  with  fearefull  cold, 
That  all  his  sences  seemd  beref te  attone : 
At  last  his  mighty  ghost  gan  deepe  to  grone, 
As  Lion,  grudging  in  his  great  disdaine, 
Mournes  inwardly,  and  makes  to  him  selfe  mone; 
Til  ruth  and  fraile  affection  did  constraine 
His  stout  courage  to  stoupe,  and  shew  his  inward  paine. 

xliit.  Out  of  her  gored  wound  the  cruell  steel 

He  lightly  snatcht,  and  did  the  floodgate  stop 
With  his  faire  garment;  then  gan  softly  feel 

Book  II — Canto  I  1 8  i 

Her  feeble  pulse,  to  prove  if  any  drop 

Of  living  blood  yet  in  her  veynes  did  hop: 

Which  when  he  felt  to  move,  he  hoped  faire 

To  call  backe  life  to  her  forsaken  shop. 

So  well  he  did  her  deadly  wounds  repaire, 

That  at  the  last  shee  gan  to  breath  out  living  aire. 

xliv.  Which  he  perceiving  greatly  gan  rejoice, 

And  goodly  counsel!,  that  for  wounded  hart 

Is  meetest  med'cine,  tempred  with  sweete  voice: 

"Ay  me !  deare  Lady,  which  the  ymage  art 

Of  ruefull  pitty  and  impatient  smart, 

What  direfull  chaunce,  armd  with  avenging  fate, 

Or  cursed  hand,  hath  plaid  this  cruell  part, 

Thus  fowle  to  hasten  your  untimely  date  ? 

Speake,  0  dear  Lady,  speake  1  help  never  comes  too  late." 

xlv.  Therewith  her  dim  eie-lids  she  up  gan  reare, 
On  which  the  drery  death  did  sitt  as  sad 
As  lump  of  lead,  and  made  darke  clouds  appeare: 
But  when  as  him,  all  in  bright  armour  clad, 
Before  her  standing  she  espied  had, 
As  one  out  of  a  deadly  dreame  affright, 
She  weakely  started,  yet  she  nothing  drad : 
Streight  downe  againe  herselfe,  in  great  despight, 
She  groveling  threw  to  ground,  as  hating  life  and  light. 

xl vi.  The  gentle  knight  her  soone  with  carefull  paine 
Uplifted  light,  and  softly  did  uphold : 
Thrise  he  her  reared,  and  thrise  she  sunck  againe, 
Till  he  his  armes  about  her  sides  gan  fold, 
And  to  her  said;  "  Yet,  if  the  stony  cold 
Have  not  all  seized  on  your  frozen  ha.rt, 
Let  one  word  fall  that  may  your  grief  unfold, 
And  tell  the  secrete  of  your  mortall  smart : 
He  oft  finds  present  helpe  who  does  his  grief e  impart.' > 

xl vii.  Then,  casting  up  a  deadly  looke,  full  low 

Shee  sight  from  bottome  of  her  wounded  brestj 
And  after,  many  bitter  throbs  did  throw, 
With  lips  full  pale  and  foltring  tong  opprest, 
These  words  she  breathed  forth  from  riven  chest: 
"  Leave,  ah !  leave  off,  whatever  wight  thou  bee, 

1 82  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  lett  a  weary  wretch  from  her  dew  rest, 

And  trouble  dying  soules  tranquilitee ; 

Take  not  away,  now  got,  which  none  would  give  to  me." 

xl viii.  "  Ah !  far  be  it,"  (said  he)  "  Deare  dame,  fro  mee, 
To  hinder  soule  from  her  desired  rest, 
Or  hold  sad  life  in  long  captivitee; 
For  all  I  seeke  is  but  to  have  redrest 
The  bitter  pangs  that  doth  your  heart  infest. 
Tell  then,  0  Lady !  tell  what  fatall  priefe 
Hath  with  so  huge  misfortune  you  opprest; 
That  I  may  cast  to  compas  your  reliefe, 
Or  die  with  you  in  sorrow,  and  partake  your  grief e." 

xlix.  With  feeble  hands  then  stretched  forth  on  hye, 
As  heven  accusing  guilty  of  her  death, 
And  with  dry  drops  congealed  in  her  eye, 
In  these  sad  wordes  she  spent  her  utmost  breath: 
"  Heare  then,  O  man !  the  sorrowes  that  uneath 
My  tong  can  tell,  so  far  all  sence  they  pas. 
Loe !  this  dead  corpse,  that  lies  here  underneath, 
The  gentlest  knight,  that  ever  on  greene  gras 
Gay  steed  with  spurs  did  pricke,  the  good  Sir  Mortdant  was  : 

L.  "  Was,  (ay  the  while,  that  he  is  not  so  now!) 
My  Lord,  my  love,  my  deare  Lord,  my  deare  love  1 
So  long  as  hevens  just  with  equall  brow 
Vouchsafed  to  behold  us  from  above. 
One  day,  when  him  high  corage  did  emmove, 
As  wont  ye  knightes  to  seeke  adventures  wilde, 
He  pricked  forth  his  puissant  force  to  prove. 
Me  then  he  left  enwombed  of  this  childe, 
This  luckles  childe,  whom  thus  ye  see  with  blood  deflld. 

li.  "  Him  fortuned  (hard  fortune  ye  may  ghesse) 
To  come,  where  vile  Acrasia  does  wonne; 
Acrasia,  a  false  enchaunteresse, 
That  many  errant  knightes  hath  fowle  fordonne; 
Within  a  wandring  Island,  that  doth  ronne 
And  stray  in  perilous  gulfe,  her  dwelling  is, 
Fayre  Sir,  if  ever  there  ye  travell,  shonne 
The  cursed  land  where  many  wend  amis, 
And  know  it  by  the  name :   it  hight  the  Bowre  of  bits. 

Book  II— Canto  I  183 

lii.  "  ITer  blis  is  all  in  pleasure,  and  delight, 

Wherewith  she  makes  her  lovers  dronken  mad; 

And  then  with  words,  and  weedes,  of  wondrous  might, 

On  them  she  workes  her  will  to  uses  bad : 

My  liefest  Lord  she  thus  beguiled  had; 

For  he  was  flesh:  (all  flesh  doth  frayltie  breed) 

Whom  when  I  heard  to  beene  so  ill  bestad, 

Weake  wretch,  I  wrapt  myselfe  in  Palmers  weed, 

And  cast  to  seek  him  forth  through  danger  and  great  dreed. 

liii.  "  Now  had  fayre  Cynthia  by  even  tournes 
Full  measured  three  quarters  of  her  yeare, 
And  thrise  three  tymes  had  fild  her  crooked  homes, 
Whenas  my  wombe  her  burdein  would  forbeare, 
And  bade  me  call  Lucina  to  me  neare. 
Lucina  came;  a  manchild  forth  I  brought; 
The  woods,  the  nymphes,my  bowres,  my  midwives,  weare: 
Hard  help  at  need!     So  deare  thee,  babe,  I  bought; 
Yet  nought  too  dear  I  deemd,  while  so  my  deare  I  sought. 

liv.  "  Him  so  I  sought;  and  so  at  last  I  fownd, 
Where  him  that  witch  had  thralled  to  her  will, 
In  chaines  of  lust  and  lewde  desyres  ybownd, 
And  so  transformed  from  his  former  skill, 
That  me  he  knew  not,  nether  his  owne  ill; 
Till,  through  wise  handling  and  faire  governaunce, 
I  him  recured  to  a  better  will, 
Purged  from  drugs  of  fowle  intemperaunce: 
Then  meanes  I  gan  devise  for  his  deliveraunce. 

lv.  "  Which  when  the  vile  Enchaunteresse  perceiv'd, 
How  that  my  Lord  from  her  I  would  reprive, 
With  cup  thus  charmd  him  parting  she  deceivd ; 
1  Sad  verse,  give  death  to  him  that  death  does  give, 
And  losse  of  love  to  her  that  loves  to  live, 
So  soone  as  Bacchus  with  the  Nymphe  does  lincke ! ' 
So  parted  we,  and  on  our  journey  drive; 
Till,  coming  to  this  well,  he  stoupt  to  drincke: 
The  charme  fulfild,  dead  suddeinly  he  downe  did  sincke. 

lvi.  "  Which  when  I,  wretch  " — Not  one  word  more  she  sayd, 
But  breaking  off  the  end  for  want  of  breath, 
And  slyding  soft,  as  downe  to  sleepe  her  layd, 

i  84  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  ended  all  her  woe  in  quiet  death. 

That  seeing,  good  Sir  Guyon  could  uneath 

From  teares  abstayne ;  for  grief e  his  hart  did  grate, 

And  from  so  heavie  sight  his  head  did  wreath, 

Accusing  fortune,  and  too  cruell  fate, 

Which  plonged  had  faire  Lady  in  so  wretched  state. 

lvii.  Then  turning  to  his  Palmer  said;  "  Old  syre, 
Behold  the  ymage  of  mortalitie, 
And  feeble  nature  cloth'd  with  fleshly  tyre< 
When  raging  passion  with  fierce  tyranny 
Robs  reason  of  her  dew  regalitie, 
And  makes  it  servaunt  to  her  basest  part, 
The  strong  it  weakens  with  infirmitie, 
And  with  bold  furie  armes  the  weakest  hart: 
The  strong  through  pleasure  soonest  falles,  the  weake 
through  smart." 

lviii.  "  But  temperaunce  "  (said  he)  "  with  golden  squire 
Betwixt  them  both  can  measure  out  a  meane; 
Nether  to  melt  in  pleasures  whott  desyre, 
Nor  frye  in  hartlesse  grief e  and  dolefull  tene: 
Thrise  happy  man,  who  fares  them  both  atweene ! 
But  sith  this  wretched  woman  overcome 
Of  anguish,  rather  then  of  crime,  hath  bene, 
Reserve  her  cause  to  her  eternall  doome; 
And,  in  the  meane,  vouchsafe  her  honorable  toombe." 

lix.  "  Palmer,"  quoth  he,  "  death  is  an  equall  doome 
To  good  and  bad,  the  common  In  of  rest; 
But  after  death  the  tryall  is  to  come, 
When  best  shall  bee  to  them  that  lived  best; 
But  both  alike,  when  death  hath  both  supprest, 
Religious  reverence  doth  buriall  teene; 
Which  whoso  wants,  wants  so  much  of  his  rest: 
For  all  so  great  shame  after  death  I  weene, 
As  selfe  to  dyen  bad,  unburied  bad  to  beene." 

lx.  So  both  agree  their  bodies  to  engrave: 

The  great  earthes  wombe  they  open  to  the  sky, 
And  with  sad  Cypresse  seemely  it  embrave; 
Then,  covering  with  a  clod  their  closed  eye, 
They  lay  therein  their  corses  tenderly, 

Book  II— Canto  I  185 

And  bid  them  sleepe  in  everlasting  peace^ 

But,  ere  they  did  their  utmost  obsequy, 

Sir  Guyon,  more  affection  to  increace, 

Bynempt  a  sacred  vow,  which  none  should  ay  releace« 

lxi.  The  dead  knights  sword  out  of  his  sheath  he  drew, 
With  which  he  cutt  a  lock  of  all  their  heare, 
Which  medling  with  their  blood  and  earth  he  threw 
Into  the  grave,  and  gan  devoutly  sweare; 
"  Such  and  such  evil  God  on  Guyon  reare, 
And  worse  and  worse,  young  Orphane,  be  thy  payne, 
If  I,  or  thou,  dew  vengeaunce  doe  forbeare, 
Till  guiltie  blood  her  guerdon  doe  obtayne !  " 
So  shedding  many  teares  they  closd  the  earth  agayne* 

1 86  The  Faerie  Queene 


Babes  bloody  handes  may  not  be  clensd: 
The  face  of  golden  Meane: 
Her  sisters,  two  Extremities, 
Strive  her  to  banish  cleane. 

I.  Thus  when  Sir  Guyon  with  his  faithful  guyde 
Had  with  dew  rites  and  dolorous  lament 
The  end  of  their  sad  Tragedie  uptyde, 
The  litle  babe  up  in  his  armes  he  hent ; 
Who  with  sweet  pleasaunce,  and  bold  blandishment, 
Gan  smyle  on  them,  that  rather  ought  to  weepe, 
As  carelesse  of  his  woe,  or  innocent 
Of  that  was  doen ;  that  ruth  emperced  deepe 
In  that  knightes  hart,  and  wordes  with  bitter  teares 
did  steepe: 


II.  "  Ah!  lucklesse  babe,  borne  under  cruell  starre, 

And  in  dead  parents  balefull  ashes  bred, 
Full  little  weenest  thou  what  sorrowes  are 
Left  thee  for  porcion  of  thy  lively hed; 
Poore  Orphane !  in  the  wild  world  scattered, 
As  budding  braunch  rent  from  the  native  tree, 
And  throwen  forth,  till  it  be  withered. 
Such  is  the  state  of  men :  Thus  enter  we 
Into  this  life  with  woe,  and  end  with  miseree !  " 

in.  Then,  soft  himself e  inclyning  on  his  knee 
Downe  to  that  well,  did  in  the  water  weene 
(So  love  does  loath  disdainefull  nicitee) 
His  guiltie  handes  from  bloody  gore  to  cleene. 
He  washt  them  oft  and  oft,  yet  nought  they  beene 
For  all  his  washing  cleaner.     Still  he  strove; 
Yet  still  the  litle  hands  were  bloody  seene: 
The  which  him  into  great  amaz'ment  drove, 
And  into  diverse  doubt  his  wavering  wonder  clove, 

iv.  He  wist  not  whether  blott  of  fowle  offence 
Might  not  be  purgd  with  water  nor  with  bath; 
Or  that  high  God,  in  lieu  of  innocence, 

Book  II— Canto  II  187 

Imprinted  had  that  token  of  his  wrath, 

To  shew  how  sore  bloodguiltinesse  he  hat'th ; 

Or  that  the  charme  and  veneme  which  they  dronck, 

Their  blood  with  secret  filth  infected  hath, 

Being  diffused  through  the  senceless  tronck, 

That  through  the  great  contagion  direful  deadly  stonck. 

v.  Whom  thus  at  gaze  the  Palmer  gan  to  bord 
With  goodly  reason,  and  thus  fayre  bespake ; 
"  Ye  bene  right  hard  amated,  gratious  Lord, 
And  of  your  ignorance  great  merveill  make, 
Whiles  cause  not  well  conceived  ye  mistake: 
But  know,  that  secret  vertues  are  infusd 
In  every  fountaine,  and  in  everie  lake, 
Which  who  hath  skill  them  rightly  to  have  chusd, 
To  proof e  of  passing  wonders  hath  full  often  usd: 

vi.  "  Of  those,  some  were  so  from  their  sourse  indewd 
By  great  Dame  Nature,  from  whose  fruitfull  pap 
Their  welheads  spring,  and  are  with  moisture  deawd; 
Which  feedes  each  living  plant  with  liquid  sap, 
And  filles  with  flowres  fayre  Floraes  painted  lap: 
But  other  some,  by  guifte  of  later  grace, 
Or  by  good  prayers,  or  by  other  hap, 
Had  vertue  pourd  into  their  waters  bace, 
And  thenceforth  were  renowmd,  and  sought  from  place 
to  place, 

vii.  "  Such  is  this  well,  wrought  by  occasion  straunge, 
Which  to  her  Nymph  befell.     Upon  a  day, 
As  she  the  woodes  with  bow  and  shaftes  did  raunge, 
The  hartlesse  Hynd  and  Robucke  to  dismay, 
Dan  Faunus  chaunst  to  meet  her  by  the  way, 
And,  kindling  fire  at  her  faire-burning  eye, 
Inflamed  was  to  follow  beauties  pray. 
And  chaced  her  that  fast  from  him  did  fly ; 
As  hynd  from  her,  so  she  fled  from  her  enimy. 

viii.  "  At  last,  when  fayling  breath  began  to  faint, 
And  saw  no  meanes  to  scape,  of  shame  affrayd, 
She  set  her  downe  to  weepe  for  sore  constraint; 
And  to  Diana  calling  lowd  for  ayde, 
Her  deare  besought  to  let  her  die  a  mayd. 
The  goddesse  heard ;  and  suddeine,  where  she  sate 

1 88  The  Faerie  Queene 

Welling  out  streames  of  teares,  and  quite  dismayd 
With  stony  feare  of  that  rude  rustick  mate, 
Transformd  her  to  a  stone  from  stedfast  virgins  state. 

ix.  "  Lo!  now  she  is  that  stone;  from  whose  two  heads, 
As  from  two  weeping  eyes,  fresh  streames  do  flow, 
Yet  colde  through  feare  and  old  conceived  dreads; 
And  yet  the  stone  her  semblance  seemes  to  show, 
Shapt  like  a  maide,  that  such  ye  may  her  know : 
And  yet  her  vertues  in  her  water  byde, 
For  it  is  chaste  and  pure  as  purest  snow, 
Ne  lets  her  waves  with  any  filth  be  dyde; 
But  ever,  like  herselfe,  unstayned  hath  beene  tryde. 

x.  "  From  thence  it  comes,  that  this  babes  bloody  hand 
May  not  be  clensd  with  water  of  this  well: 
Ne  certes,  Sir,  strive  you  it  to  withstand, 
But  let  them  still  be  bloody,  as  befell, 
That  they  his  mothers  innocence  may  tell, 
As  she  bequeathd  in  her  last  testament ; 
That,  as  a  sacred  Symbole,  it  may  dwell 
In  her  sonnes  flesh,  to  mind  revengement, 
And  be  for  all  chaste  Dames  an  endlesse  moniment.,, 

xi.  He  hearkned  to  his  reason,  and  the  childe 
Up  taking,  to  the  Palmer  gave  to  beare ; 
But  his  sad  fathers  armes  with  blood  defilde, 
An  heavie  load,  himself e  did  lightly  reare ; 
And  turning  to  that  place,  in  which  whyleare 
He  left  his  loftie  steed  with  golden  sell 
And  goodly  gorgeous  barbes,  him  found  not  theare: 
By  other  accident,  that  earst  befell, 
He  is  convaide;  but  how,  or  where,  here  fits  not  tell. 

xii.  Which  when  Sir  Guyon  saw,  all  were  he  wroth, 
Yet  algates  mote  he  softe  himselfe  appease, 
And  fairely  fare  on  foot,  how  ever  loth: 
His  double  burden  did  him  sore  disease. 
So  long  they  traveiled  with  litle  ease, 
Till  that  at  last  they  to  a  Castle  came, 
Built  on  a  rocke  adjoyning  to  the  seas: 
It  was  an  auncient  worke  of  antique  fame, 
And  wondrous  strong  by  nature,  and  by  skilful  frame. 

Book  II— Canto  II  189 

xiii.  Therein  three  sisters  dwelt  of  sundry  sort, 
The  children  of  one  syre  by  mothers  three; 
Who  dying  whylome  did  divide  this  fort 
To  them  by  equall  shares  in  equall  fee: 
But  stryfull  mind  and  diverse  qualitee 
Drew  them  in  partes,  and  each  made  others  foe: 
Still  did  they  strive  and  daily  disagree; 
The  eldest  did  against  the  youngest  goe, 
And  both  against  the  middest  meant  to  worken  woe. 

xiv.  Where  when  the  knight  arriv'd,  he  was  right  well 
Receiv'd,  as  knight  of  so  much  worth  became, 
Of  second  sister,  who  did  far  excell 
The  other  two:  Medina  was  her  name, 
A  sober  sad  and  comely  courteous  Dame; 
Who  rich  arayd,  and  yet  in  modest  guize, 
In  goodly  garments  that  her  well  became, 
Fay  re  marching  forth  in  honorable  wize, 
Him  at  the  threshold  mett,  and  well  did  enterprize. 

xv.  She  led  him  up  into  a  goodly  bowre, 

And  comely  courted  with  meet  modestie; 
Ne  in  her  speach,  ne  in  her  haviour, 
Was  lightnesse  seene  or  looser  vanitie, 
But  gratious  womanhood,  and  gravitie, 
Above  the  reason  of  her  youthly  yeares. 
Her  golden  lockes  she  roundly  did  uptye 
In  breaded  tramels,  that  no  looser  heares 
Did  out  of  order  stray  about  her  daintie  eares/ 

xvi.  Whilest  she  her  selfe  thus  busily  did  frame 
Seemely  to  entertaine  her  new-come  guest, 
Newes  hereof  to  her  other  sisters  came, 
Who  all  this  while  were  at  their  wanton  rest, 
Accourting  each  her  frend  with  lavish  fest: 
They  were  two  knights  of  perelesse  puissaunce, 
And  famous  far  abroad  for  warlike  gest, 
Which  to  these  Ladies  love  did  countenaunce, 
And  to  his  mistresse  each  himselfe  strove  to  advaunce* 

xvii.  He  that  made  love  unto  the  eldest  Dame, 
Was  hight  Sir  Huddibras,  an  hardy  man; 
Yet  not  so  good  of  deedes  as  great  of  name, 

190  The  Faerie  Queene 

Which  he  by  many  rash  adventures  wan, 

Since  errant  armes  to  sew  he  first  began: 

More  huge  in  strength  then  wise  in  workes  he  was, 

And  reason  with  f oole-hardize  over  ran ; 

Sterne  melancholy  did  his  courage  pas, 

And  was,  for  terrour  more,  all  armd  in  shyning  bras. 

xviii.  But  he  that  lov'd  the  youngest  was  Sansloy ; 
He,  that  faire  Una  late  fowle  outraged, 
The  most  unruly  and  the  boldest  boy 
That  ever  warlike  weapons  menaged, 
And  all  to  lawlesse  lust  encouraged 
Through  strong  opinion  of  his  matchlesse  might; 
Ne  ought  he  car'd  whom  he  endamaged 
By  tortious  wrong,  or  whom  bereav'd  of  right: 
He,  now  this  Ladies  Champion,  chose  for  love  to  fight. 

xix.  These  two  gay  knights,  vowd  to  so  diverse  loves, 
Each  other  does  envy  with  deadly  hate, 
And  daily  warre  against  his  foeman  moves, 
In  hope  to  win  more  favour  with  his  mate, 
And  th'  others  pleasing  service  to  abate, 
To  magnifie  his  owne.     But  when  they  heard 
How  in  that  place  straunge  knight  arrived  late, 
Both  knightes  and  ladies  forth  right  angry  far'd, 
And  fercely  unto  battell  sterne  themselves  prepar'd. 

xx.  But  ere  they  could  proceede  unto  the  place 
Where  he  abode,  themselves  at  discord  fell, 
And  cruell  combat  joynd  in  middle  space: 
With  horrible  assault,  and  fury  fell, 
They  heapt  huge  strokes  the  scorned  life  to  quell, 
That  all  on  uprore  from  her  settled  seat, 
The  house  was  raysd,  and  all  that  in  did  dwell. 
Seemd  that  lowde  thunder  with  amazement  great 
Did  rend  the  ratling  skyes  with  flames  of  fouldring  heat. 

xxi.  The  noyse  thereof  cald  forth  that  straunger  knight, 
To  weet  what  dreadfull  thing  was  there  in  hond ; 
Where  whenas  two  brave  knightes  in  bloody  fight 
With  deadly  rancour  he  enraunged  fond, 
His  sunbroad  shield  about  his  wrest  he  bond, 
And  shyning  blade  unsheathd,  with  which  he  ran 

Book  II — Canto  II  191 

Unto  that  stead,  their  strife  to  und erstond ; 

And  at  his  first  arrivall  them  began 

With  goodly  meanes  to  pacifie,  well  as  he  can. 

xxii.  But  they,  him  spying,  both  with  greedy  forse 
Attonce  upon  him  ran,  and  him  beset 
With  strokes  of  mortall  Steele  without  remorse, 
And  on  his  shield  like  yron  sledges  bet: 
As  when  a  Beare  and  Tygre,  being  met 
In  cruell  fight  on  Lybicke  Ocean  wide, 
Espye  a  traveiler  with  feet  surbet, 
Whom  they  in  equall  pray  hope  to  divide, 
They  stint  their  strife  and  him  assayle  on  everie  side. 

xxiii.  But  he,  not  like  a  weary  traveilere, 

Their  sharp  assault  right  boldly  did  rebut, 
And  suffred  not  their  blowes  to  byte  him  nere, 
But  with  redoubled  buffes  them  backe  did  put: 
W^hose  grieved  mindes,  which  choler  did  englut, 
Against  themselves  turning  their  wrathfull  spight, 
Gan  with  new  rage  their  shieldes  to  hew  and  cut; 
But  still,  when  Guyon  came  to  part  their  fight, 
W7ith  heavie  load  on  him  they  freshly  gan  to  smight. 

xxiv.  As  a  tall  ship  tossed  in  troublous  seas, 

Whom  raging  windes,  threatning  to  make  the  pray 

Of  the  rough  rockes,  doe  diversly  disease, 

Meetes  two  contrarie  billowes  by  the  way, 

That  her  on  either  side  doe  sore  assay, 

And  boast  to  swallow  her  in  greedy  grave  ; 

Shee,  scorning  both  their  spights,  does  make  wide  way, 

And  with  her  brest  breaking  the  fomy  wave, 

Does  ride  on  both  their  backs,  and  faire  her  self  doth  save. 

xxv.  So  boldly  he  him  beares,  and  rusheth  forth 
Betweene  them  both  by  conduct  of  his  blade. 
Wondrous  great  prowesse  and  heroick  worth 
He  shewd  that  day,  and  rare  ensample  made, 
When  two  so  mighty  warriours  he  dismade. 
Attonce  he  wards  and  strikes;  he  takes  and  paies; 
Now  forst  to  yield,  now  forcing  to  invade; 
Before,  behind,  and  round  about  him  laies; 
So  double  was  his  paines,  so  double  be  his  praise. 

192  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  Straunge  sort  of  fight,  three  valiaunt  knights  to  see 
Three  combates  joine  in  one,  and  to  darraine 
A  triple  warre  with  triple  enmitee, 
All  for  their  Ladies  froward  love  to  gaine, 
Which  gotten  was  but  hate.    So  love  does  raine 
In  stoutest  minds,  and  maketh  monstrous  warre ; 
He  maketh  warre,  he  maketh  peace  againe, 
And  yett  his  peace  is  but  continual  jarre: 
O  miserable  men  that  to  him  subject  arre! 

xxvii.  Whilst  thus  they  mingled  were  in  furious  armes, 
The  faire  Medina,  with  her  tresses  torne 
And  naked  brest,  in  pitty  of  their  harmes, 
Emongst  them  ran;  and,  falling  them  beforne, 
Besought  them  by  the  womb  which  them  had  born, 
And  by  the  loves  which  were  to  them  most  deare, 
And  by  the  knighthood  which  they  sure  had  sworn, 
Their  deadly  cruell  discord  to  forbeare, 
And  to  her  just  conditions  of  faire  peace  to  heare. 

xxviii.  But  her  two  other  sisters,  standing  by, 

Her  lowd  gainsaid,  and  both  their  champions  bad 
Pursew  the  end  of  their  strong  enmity, 
As  ever  of  their  loves  they  would  be  glad: 
Yet  she  with  pitthy  words,  and  counsell  sad, 
Still  strove  their  stubborne  rages  to  revoke; 
That  at  the  last,  suppressing  fury  mad, 
They  gan  abstaine  from  dint  of  direfull  stroke, 
And  hearken  to  the  sober  speaches  which  she  spoke,- 

xxix.  "  Ah,  puissaunt  Lords !  what  cursed  evil  Spright, 
Or  fell  Erinnys,  in  your  noble  harts 
Her  hellish  brond  hath  kindled  with  despight, 
And  stird  you  up  to  worke  your  wilf ull  smarts  ? 
Is  this  the  joy  of  armes  ?  be  these  the  parts 
Of  glorious  knighthood,  after  blood  to  thrust, 
And  not  regard  dew  right  and  just  desarts? 
Vaine  is  the  vaunt,  and  victory  unjust, 
That  more  to  mighty  hands  then  rightfull  cause  doth  trust. 

xxx.  "  And  were  there  rightfull  cause  of  difference, 
Yet  were  not  better  fayre  it  to  accord 
Then  with  bloodguiltinesse  to  heape  offence, 

Book  II — Canto  II  193 

And  mortal  vengeaunce  joyne  to  crime  abhord? 
O!  fly  from  wrath;  fly,  0  my  liefest  Lordl 
Sad  be  the  sights,  and  bitter  fruites  of  warre, 
And  thousand  furies  wait  on  wrathfull  sword; 
Ne  ought  the  praise  of  prowesse  more  doth  marre 
Then  fowle  revenging  rage,  and  base  contentious  jarre 

xxxi.  "  But  lovely  concord,  and  most  sacred  peace, 

Doth  nourish  vertue,  and  fast  friendship  breeds, 
Weake  she  makes  strong,  and  strong  thing  does  increace, 
Till  it  the  pitch  of  highest  praise  exceeds : 
Brave  be  her  warres,  and  honorable  deeds, 
By  which  she  triumphes  over  yre  and  pride, 
And  winnes  an  Olive  girlond  for  her  meeds* 
Be,  therefore,  O  my  deare  Lords !  pacifide, 
And  this  misseeming  discord  meekely  lay  aside," 

xxxii.  Her  gracious  words  their  rancour  did  appall, 
And  suncke  so  deepe  into  their  boyling  brests, 
That  downe  they  lett  their  cruell  weapons  fall, 
And  lowly  did  abase  their  lofty  crests 
To  her  faire  presence  and  discrete  behests. 
Then  she  began  a  treaty  to  procure, 
And  stablish  terms  betwixt  both  their  requests, 
That  as  a  law  forever  should  endure; 
Which  to  observe  in  word  of  knights  they  did  assure. 

xxxiii.  Which  to  confirme,  and  fast  to  bind  their  league, 
After  their  weary  sweat  and  bloody  toile, 
She  them  besought,  during  their  quiet  treague, 
Into  her  lodging  to  repaire  awhile, 
To  rest  themselves,  and  grace  to  reconcile. 
They  soone  consent:  so  forth  with  her  they  fare; 
Where  they  are  well  receivd,  and  made  to  spoile 
Themselves  of  soiled  armes,  and  to  prepare 
Their  minds  to  pleasure,  and  their  mouths  to  dainty  fare, 

xxxiv.  And  those  two  froward  sisters,  their  faire  loves, 
Came  with  them  eke,  all  were  they  wondrous  loth, 
And  fained  cheare,  as  for  the  time  behoves, 
But  could  not  colour  yet  so  well  the  troth, 
But  that  their  natures  bad  appeard  in  both; 
For  both  did  at  their  second  sister  grutch 

194  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  inly  grieve,  as  doth  an  hidden  moth 
The  inner  garment  frett,  not  th'  utter  touch: 
One  thought  her  cheare  too  litle,  th'  other  thought  too 

xxxv.  Elissa  (so  the  eldest  hight)  did  deeme 

Such  entertainment  base,  ne  ought  would  eat, 
Ne  ought  would  speake,  but  evermore  did  seeme 
As  discontent  for  want  of  merth  or  meat: 
No  solace  could  her  Paramour  intreat 
Her  once  to  show,  ne  court,  nor  dalliaunce ; 
But  with  bent  lowring  browes,  as  she  would  threat, 
She  scould,  and  frownd  with  fro  ward  countenaunce; 
Unworthy  of  faire  Ladies  comely  governaunce, 

xxxvi.  But  young  Perissa  was  of  other  mynd, 

Full  of  disport,  still  laughing,  loosely  light, 

And  quite  contrary  to  her  sisters  kynd; 

No  measure  in  her  mood,  no  rule  of  right, 

But  poured  out  in  pleasure  and  delight: 

In  wine  and  meats  she  flowd  above  the  banck, 

And  in  excesse  exceeded  her  owne  might; 

In  sumptuous  tire  she  joyd  her  selfe  to  pranck, 

But  of  her  love  too  lavish :  (litle  have  she  thanck !) 

xxxvii.  Fast  by  her  side  did  sitt  the  bold  Sansloy, 
Fitt  mate  for  such  a  mincing  mineon, 
Who  in  her  loosenesse  tooke  exceeding  joy; 
Might  not  be  found  a  francker  franion, 
Of  her  leawd  parts  to  make  companion: 
But  Huddibras,  more  like  a  Malecontent, 
Did  see  and  grieve  at  his  bold  fashion; 
Hardly  could  he  endure  his  hardiment, 
Yett  still  he  satt,  and  inly  did  him  selfe  torment. 

xxxviii.  Betwixt  them  both  the  faire  Medina  sate 
With  sober  grace  and  goodly  carriage : 
With  equall  measure  she  did  moderate 
The  strong  extremities  of  their  outrage. 
That  forward  paire  she  ever  would  asswage, 
When  they  would  strive  dew  reason  to  exceed, 
But  that  same  froward  twaine  would  accorage, 
And  of  her  plenty  adde  unto  their  need : 
So  kept  she  them  in  order,  and  her  selfe  in  heed. 

Book  II — Canto  II  195 

xxxix.  Thus  fairely  shee  attempered  her  feast, 
And  pleasd  them  all  with  meete  satiety. 
At  last,  when  lust  of  meat  and  drinke  was  ceast, 
She  Guyon  deare  besought  of  curtesie 
To  tell  from  whence  he  came  through  jeopardy, 
And  whither  now  on  new  adventure  bownd: 
Who  with  bold  grace,  and  comely  gravity, 
Drawing  to  him  the  eies  of  all  arownd, 
From  lofty  siege  began  these  words  aloud  to  sownd. 

XL.  "  This  thy  demaund,  O  Lady !  doth  revive 
Fresh  memory  in  me  of  that  great  Queene, 
Great  and  most  glorious  virgin  Queene  alive, 
That  with  her  soveraine  power,  and  scepter  shene, 
All  Faery  lond  does  peaceably  sustene, 
In  widest  Ocean  she  her  throne  does  reare, 
That  over  all  the  earth  it  may  be  seene ; 
As  morning  Sunne  her  beames  dispredden  cleare, 
And  in  her  face  faire  peace  and  mercy  doth  appeare. 

XLi.  "  In  her  the  richesse  of  all  heavenly  grace 
In  chiefe  degree  are  heaped  up  on  hye  : 
And  all,  that  els  this  worlds  enclosure  bace 
Hath  great  or  glorious  in  mortall  eye, 
Adornes  the  person  of  her  Majestye; 
That  men,  beholding  so  great  excellence 
And  rare  perfection  in  mortalitye, 
Doe  her  adore  with  sacred  reverence, 
As  th'  Idole  of  her  makers  great  magnificence* 

xlii.  "  To  her  I  homage  and  my  service  owe, 

In  number  of  the  noblest  knightes  on  ground; 
Mongst  whom  on  me  she  deigned  to  bestowe 
Order  of  Maydenhead,  the  most  renownd 
That  may  this  day  in  all  the  world  be  found < 
An  yearely  solemne  feast  she  wontes  to  hold, 
The  day  that  first  doth  lead  the  yeare  around, 
To  which  all  knights  of  worth  and  courage  bold 
Resort,  to  heare  of  straunge  adventures  to  be  told. 

xliii.  "  There  this  old  Palmer  shewd  himself e  that  day, 
And  to  that  mighty  Princesse  did  complaine 
Of  grievous  mischiefes  which  a  wicked  Fay 

196  The  Faerie  Queene 

Had  wrought,  and  many  whelmd  in  deadly  paine ; 
Whereof  he  crav'd  redresse.     My  Soveraine, 
Whose  glory  is  in  gracious  deeds,  and  joyes 
Throughout  the  world  her  mercy  to  maintaine, 
Ef tsoones  devised  redresse  for  such  annoyes : 
Me,  all  unfitt  for  so  great  purpose,  she  employes, 

xliv.  "  Now  hath  faire  Phebe  with  her  silver  face 

Thrise  seene  the  shadowes  of  the  neather  world, 

Sith  last  I  left  that  honorable  place, 

In  which  her  roiall  presence  is  enrold; 

Ne  ever  shall  I  rest  in  house  nor  hold, 

Till  I  that  false  Acrasia  have  wonne ; 

Of  whose  fowle  deedes,  too  hideous  to  bee  told, 

I  witnesse  am,  and  this  their  wretched  sonne, 

WTiose  wofull  parents  she  hath  wickedly  fordonne." 

xlv.  "  Tell  on,  fayre  Sir,"  said  she,  "  that  dolefull  tale, 
From  which  sad  ruth  does  seeme  you  to  restraine, 
That  we  may  pitty  such  unhappie  bale, 
And  learne  from  pleasures  poyson  to  abstaine : 
111  by  ensample  good  doth  often  gayne." 
Then  forward  he  his  purpose  gan  pursew, 
And  told  the  story  of  the  mortall  payne, 
Which  Mordant  and  Amavia  did  rew, 
As  with  lamenting  eyes  him  selfe  did  lately  vew< 

xlvi.  Night  was  far  spent;  and  now  in  Ocean  deep 
Orion,  flying  fast  from  hissing  snake, 
His  flaming  head  did  hasten  for  to  steep, 
When  of  his  pitteous  tale  he  end  did  make: 
Whilst  with  delight  of  that  he  wisely  spake 
Those  guestes,  beguyled,  did  beguyle  their  eyes 
Of  kindly  sleepe  that  did  them  overtake. 
At  last,  when  they  had  markt  the  chaunged  skyes, 
They  wist  their  houre  was  spent;  then  each  to  rest  him  hyes. 

Book  II — Canto  III  197 


Vaine  Braggadocchio,  getting  Guy- 
ons  horse,  is  made  the  scorne 
Of  knighthood  trew;  and  is  of  fayre 
Belphoebe  fowle  forlorne. 

I.  Soone  as  the  morrow  fayre  with  purple  beames 
Disperst  the  shadowes  of  the  misty  night, 
And  Titan,  playing  on  the  eastern  streames, 
Gan  cleare  the  deawy  ayre  with  springing  light, 
Sir  Guyon,  mindfull  of  his  vow  yplight, 
Uprose  from  drowsie  couch,  and  him  addrest 
Unto  the  journey  which  he  had  behight: 
His  puissant  armes  about  his  noble  brest, 
And  many-folded  shield  he  bound  about  his  wrest. 

11.  Then,  taking  Conge  of  that  virgin  pure, 
The  bloody-handed  babe  unto  her  truth 
Did  earnestly  committ,  and  her  conjure 
In  vertuous  lore  to  traine  his  tender  youth, 
And  all  that  gentle  noriture  ensu'th; 
And  that,  so  soone  as  ryper  yeares  he  raught, 
He  might,  for  memory  of  that  dayes  ruth, 
Be  called  Ruddymane ;  and  thereby  taught 
T'  avenge  his  Parents  death  on  them  that  had  it  wrought. 

in.  So  forth  he  far'd,  as  now  befell,  on  foot, 
Sith  his  good  steed  is  lately  from  him  gone; 
Patience  perforce :  helplesse  what  may  it  boot 
To  frett  for  anger,  or  for  griefe  to  mone  ? 
His  Palmer  now  shall  foot  no  more  alone. 
So  fortune  wrought,  as  under  greene  woodes  syde 
He  lately  heard  that  dying  Lady  grone, 
He  left  his  steed  without,  and  speare  besyde, 
And  rushed  in  on  foot  to  ayd  her  ere  she  dyde. 

iv.  The  whyles  a  losell  wandring  by  the  way, 
One  that  to  bountie  never  cast  his  mynd, 
Ne  thought  of  honour  ever  did  assay 

[98  The  Faerie  Queene 

His  baser  brest,  but  in  his  kestrell  kynd 

A  pleasing  vaine  of  glory  he  did  fynd, 

To  which  his  flowing  toung  and  troublous  spright 

Gave  him  great  ayd,  and  made  him  more  inclynd : 

He,  that  brave  steed  there  finding  ready  dight, 

Purloynd  both  steed  and  speare,  and  ran  away  full  light. 

V.  Now  gan  his  hart  all  swell  in  jollity, 

And  of  him  selfe  great  hope  and  help  conceiv'd, 

That  puffed  up  with  smoke  of  vanity, 

And  with  selfe-loved  personage  deceiv'd, 

He  gan  to  hope  of  men  to  be  receiv'd 

For  such  as  he  him  thought,  or  faine  would  bee : 

But  for  in  court  gay  portaunce  he  perceiv'd, 

And  gallant  shew  to  be  in  greatest  gree, 

Eftsoones  to  court  he  cast  t'  advaunce  his  first  degreei 

vi.  And  by  the  way  he  chaunced  to  espy 
One  sitting  ydle  on  a  sunny  banck, 
To  him  avaunting  in  great  bravery, 
As  Peacocke  that  his  painted  plumes  doth  pranck, 
He  smote  his  courser  in  the  trembling  flanck, 
And  to  him  threatned  his  hart- thrilling  speare : 
The  seely  man,  seeing  him  ryde  so  ranck, 
And  ayme  at  him,  fell  flatt  to  ground  for  feare, 
And  crying,  "  Mercy !  "  loud,  his  pitious  handes  gan  reare. 

vii.  Thereat  the  Scarcrow  wexed  wondrous  prowd, 
Through  fortune  of  his  first  adventure  fayre, 
And  with  big  thundring  voice  revyld  him  lowd: 
"  Vile  Caytive,  vassall  of  dread  and  despayre, 
Unworthie  of  the  commune  breathed  ayre, 
Why  livest  thou,  dead  dog,  a  lenger  day, 
And  doest  not  unto  death  thyself e  prepayre  ? 
Dy,  or  thyselfe  my  captive  yield  for  ay. 
Great  favour  I  thee  graunt  for  aunswere  thus  to  stay." 

viii.  "  Hold,  0  deare  Lord !  hold  your  dead-doing  hand," 
Then  loud  he  cryde;   "  I  am  your  humble  thrall." 
"  Ay  wretch,"  (quoth  he)  "  thy  destinies  withstand 
My  wrathfull  will,  and  doe  for  mercy  call. 
I  give  thee  life :  therefore  prostrated  fall, 
And  kisse  my  stirrup;  that  thy  homage  bee." 

Book  II — Canto  III  199 

The  Miser  threw  him  selfe,  as  an  Offall, 

Streight  at  his  foot  in  base  humilitee, 

And  cleeped  him  his  liege,  to  hold  of  him  in  fee* 

ix.  So  happy  peace  they  made  and  faire  accord. 
Eftsoones  this  liegeman  gan  to  wexe  more  bold, 
And  when  he  felt  the  folly  of  his  Lord, 
In  his  owne  kind  he  gan  him  selfe  unfold; 
For  he  was  wylie  witted,  and  growne  old 
In  cunning  sleightes  and  practick  knavery* 
From  that  day  forth  he  cast  for  to  uphold 
His  ydle  humour  with  fine  flattery, 
And  blow  the  bellowes  to  his  swelling  vanity* 

x.  Trompart,  fitt  man  for  Braggadochio, 
To  serve  at  court  in  view  of  vaunting  eye ; 
Vaine-glorious  man,  when  fluttring  wind  does  blow 
In  his  light  winges,  is  lifted  up  to  skye ; 
The  scorne  of  knighthood  and  trew  chevalrye, 
To  thinke,  without  desert  of  gentle  deed 
And  noble  worth,  to  be  advaunced  hye: 
Such  prayse  is  shame ;  but  honour,  vertues  meed, 
Doth  beare  the  fayrest  flowre  in  honourable  seed. 

xi.  So  forth  they  pas,  a  well  consorted  payre, 
Till  that  at  length  with  Archimage  they  meet: 
Who  seeing  one,  that  shone  in  armour  fayre, 
On  goodly  courser  thondring  with  his  feet, 
Eftsoones  supposed  him  a  person  meet 
Of  his  revenge  to  make  the  instrument; 
For  since  the  Redcrosse  knight  he  erst  did  weet 
To  been  with  Guyon  knitt  in  one  consent, 
The  ill,  which  earst  to  him,  he  now  to  Guyon  ment, 

xii.  And  coming  close  to  Trompart  gan  inquere 
Of  him,  what  mightie  warriour  that  mote  bee, 
That  rode  in  golden  sell  with  single  spere, 
But  wanted  sword  to  wreake  his  enmitee? 
"  He  is  a  great  adventurer,"  (said  he) 
"  That  hath  his  sword  through  hard  assay  forgone, 
And  now  hath  vowd,  till  he  avenged  bee 
Of  that  despight,  never  to  wearen  none: 
That  speare  is  him  enough  to  doen  a  thousand  grone." 

200  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  TV  enchaunter  greatly  joyed  in  the  vaunt, 
And  weened  well  ere  long  his  will  to  will, 
And  both  his  foen  with  equall  foyle  to  daunt. 
Tho  to  him  louting  lowly  did  begin 
To  plaine  of  wronges,  which  had  committed  bin 
By  Guy  on,  and  by  that  false  Redcrosse  knight; 
Which  twro,  through  treason  and  deceiptfull  gin, 
Had  slayne  Sir  Mordant  and  his  Lady  bright : 
That  mote  him  honour  win  to  wreak  so  foule  despight. 

xiv.  Therewith  all  suddeinly  he  seemd  enragd, 

And  threatned  death  with  dreadfull  countenaunce, 

As  if  their  lives  had  in  his  hand  beene  gagd ; 

And  with  stifle  force  shaking  his  mortall  launce, 

To  let  him  weet  his  doughtie  valiaunce, 

Thus  said:   "  Old  man,  great  sure  shal  be  thy  meed, 

If,  where  those  knights  for  feare  of  dew  vengeaunce 

Doe  lurke,  thou  certeinly  to  mee  areed, 

That  I  may  wreake  on  them  their  hainous  hatefull  deed." 

xv.  "  Certes,  my  Lord,"  (said  he)  "  that  shall  I  soone, 
And  give  you  eke  good  helpe  to  their  decay. 
But  mote  I  wisely  you  advise  to  doon, 
Give  no  ods  to  your  foes,  but  doe  purvay 
Your  selfe  of  sword  before  that  bloody  day ; 
For  they  be  two  the  prowest  knights  on  grownd, 
And  oft  approv'd  in  many  hard  assay; 
And  eke  of  surest  Steele  that  may  be  fownd, 
Do  arme  your  self  against  that  day,  them  to  confownd.,, 

xvi.  "  Dotard,"  (said  he)  "  let  be  thy  deepe  advise: 

Seemes  that  through  many  yeares  thy  wits  thee  faile, 

And  that  weake  eld  hath  left  thee  nothing  wise ; 

Els  never  should  thy  judgement  be  so  frayle 

To  measure  manhood  by  the  sword  or  mayle. 

Is  not  enough  fowre  quarters  of  a  man, 

Withouten  sword  or  shield,  an  hoste  to  quayle? 

Thou  litle  wo  test  what  this  right-hand  can : 

Speake  they  which  have  beheld  the  battailes  which  it  wan." 

xvii.  The  man  was  much  abashed  at  his  boast; 
Yet  well  he  wist  that  whoso  would  contend 
With  either  of  those  knightes  on  even  coast, 

Book  II — Canto  III  201 

Should  neede  of  all  his  armes  him  to  defend, 

Yet  feared  least  his  boldnesse  should  offend, 

When  Braggadocchio  saide;  "  Once  I  did  sweare, 

When  with  one  sword  seven  knightes  I  brought  to  end, 

Thenceforth  in  battaile  never  sword  to  beare, 

But  it  were  that  which  noblest  knight  on  earth  doth  weare." 

xviii.  "  Perdy,  Sir  knight,"  saide  then  th'  enchaunter  blive, 
"  That  shall  I  shortly  purchase  to  your  hond; 
For  now  the  best  and  noblest  knight  alive 
Prince  Arthur  is,  that  wonnes  in  Faerie  lond : 
He  hath  a  sword  that  flames  like  burning  brond. 
The  same  by  my  device  I  undertake 
Shall  by  to  morrow  by  thy  side  be  fond." 
At  which  bold  word  that  boaster  gan  to  quake, 
And  wondred  in  his  minde  what  mote  that  Monster  make. 

xix.  He  stayd  not  for  more  bidding,  but  away 
Was  suddein  vanished  out  of  his  sight: 
The  Northerne  winde  his  wings  did  broad  display 
At  his  commaund,  and  reared  him  up  light 
From  off  the  earth  to  take  his  aerie  flight. 
They  lookt  about,  but  nowhere  could  espye 
Tract  of  his  foot:  then  dead  through  great  affright 
They  both  nigh  were,  and  each  bad  other  flye : 
J3oth  fled  attonce,  ne  ever  backe  retourned  eye; 

xx.  Till  that  they  come  unto  a  forrest  greene, 

In  which  they  shrowd  themselves  from  causeles  fearej 
Yet  feare  them  followes  still  where  so  they  beene. 
Each  trembling  leafe  and  whistling  wind  they  heare, 
As  ghastly  bug,  does  greatly  them  affeare: 
Yet  both  doe  strive  their  fearefulnesse  to  faine. 
At  last  they  heard  a  home  that  thrilled  cleare 
Throughout  the  wood  that  ecchoed  againe, 
And  made  the  forrest  ring,  as  it  would  rive  in  twaine. 

xxi.  Eft  through  the  thicke  they  heard  one  rudely  rush, 
With  noyse  whereof  he  from  his  loftie  steed 
Downe  fell  to  ground,  and  crept  into  a  bush, 
To  hide  his  coward  head  from  dying  dreed : 
But  Trompart  stoutly  stayd  to  taken  heed 
Of  what  might  hap.     Eftsoone  there  stepped  foorth 

202  The  Faerie  Queene 

A  goodly  Ladie  clad  in  hunters  weed, 

That  seemd  to  be  a  woman  of  great  worth, 

And  by  her  stately  portance  borne  of  heavenly  birth. 

xxii.  Her  face  so  faire  as  flesh  it  seemed  not, 

But  hevenly  pourtraict  of  bright  Angels  hew, 
Cleare  as  the  skye,  withouten  blame  or  blot, 
Through  goodly  mixture  of  complexions  dew; 
And  in  her  cheekes  the  vermeill  red  did  shew 
Like  roses  in  a  bed  of  lillies  shed, 
The  which  ambrosiall  odours  from  them  threw, 
And  gazers  sence  with  double  pleasure  fed, 
Hable  to  heale  the  sicke,  and  to  revive  the  ded. 

xxiii.  In  her  faire  eyes  two  living  lamps  did  flame, 
Kindled  above  at  th'  hevenly  makers  light, 
And  darted  fyrie  beames  out  of  the  same, 
So  passing  persant,  and  so  wondrous  bright, 
That  quite  bereav'd  the  rash  beholders  sight: 
In  them  the  blinded  god  his  lustfull  fyre 
To  kindle  oft  assayd,  but  had  no  might; 
For,  with  dredd  Majestie  and  awfull  yre, 
She  broke  his  wanton  darts,  and  quenched  bace  desyre. 

xxiv.  Her  yvorie  forhead,  full  of  bountie  brave, 
Like  a  broad  table  did  it  selfe  dispred, 
For  Love  his  loftie  triumphes  to  engrave, 
And  write  the  battailes  of  his  great  godhed : 
All  good  and  honour  might  therein  be  red, 
For  there  their  dwelling  was.     And,  when  she  spake, 
Sweete  wordes  like  dropping  honny  she  did  shed; 
And  twixt  the  perles  and  rubins  softly  brake 
A  silver  sound,  that  heavenly  musicke  seemd  to  make. 

xxv.  Upon  her  eyelids  many  Graces  sate, 
Under  the  shadow  of  her  even  browes, 
Working  belgardes  and  amorous  retrate; 
And  everie  one  her  with  a  grace  endowes, 
And  everie  one  with  meekenesse  to  her  bowes. 
So  glorious  mirrhour  of  celestiall  grace, 
And  soveraine  moniment  of  mortall  vowes, 
How  shall  frayle  pen  descrive  her  heavenly  face, 
For  feare,  through  want  of  skill,  her  beauty  to  disgrace  ? 

Book  II — Canto  III  203 

xxvi.  So  faire,  and  thousand  thousand  times  more  faire, 
She  seemd,  when  she  presented  was  to  sight; 
And  was  yclad,  for  heat  of  scorching  aire, 
All  in  a  silken  Camus  lilly  whight, 
Purfled  upon  with  many  a  folded  plight, 
Which  all  above  besprinckled  was  throughout 
With  golden  aygulets,  that  glistred  bright 
Like  twinckling  starres ;  and  all  the  skirt  about 
Was  hemd  with  golden  fringe. 

xxvii.  Below  her  ham  her  weed  did  somewhat  trayne, 
And  her  streight  legs  most  bravely  were  embayld 
In  gilden  buskins  of  costly  Cordwayne, 
All  bard  with  golden  bendes,  which  were  entayld 
With  curious  antickes,  and  full  fayre  aumayld: 
Before,  they  fastned  were  under  her  knee 
In  a  rich  Jewell,  and  therein  entrayld 
The  ends  of  all  the  knots,  that  none  might  see 
How  they  within  their  fouldings  close  enwrapped  bee : 

xxviii.  Like  two  faire  marble  pillours  they  were  seene, 
Which  doe  the  temple  of  the  Gods  support, 
WTiom  all  the  people  decke  with  girlands  greene, 
And  honour  in  their  festivall  resort; 
Those  same  with  stately  grace  and  princely  port 
She  taught  to  tread,  when  she  herself e  would  grace; 
But  with  the  woody  Nymphes  when  she  did  play, 
Or  when  the  flying  Libbard  she  did  chace, 
She  could  then  nimbly  move,  and  after  fly  apace. 

xxix.  And  in  her  hand  a  sharpe  bore-speare  she  held, 
And  at  her  backe  a  bow  and  quiver  gay, 
Stuft  with  steele-headed  dartes,  wherewith  she  queld 
The  salvage  beastes  in  her  victorious  play, 
Knit  with  a  golden  bauldricke,  which  forelay 
Athwart  her  snowy  brest,  and  did  divide 
Her  daintie  paps;  which,  like  young  fruit  in  May, 
Now  little  gan  to  swell,  and  being  tide 
Through  her  thin  weed  their  places  only  signifide, 

xxx.  Her  yellow  lockes,  crisped  like  golden  wyre, 
About  her  shoulders  weren  loosely  shed, 
And,  when  the  winde  emongst  them  did  inspyre, 

204  The  Faerie  Queene 

They  waved  like  a  penon  wyde  dispred, 

And  low  behinde  her  backe  were  scattered: 

And,  whether  art  it  were  or  heedlesse  hap, 

As  through  the  flouring  forrest  rash  she  fled, 

In  her  rude  heares  sweet  flowres  themselves  did  lap, 

And  flourishing  fresh  leaves  and  blossomes  did  enwrap. 

xxxi.  Such  as  Diana  by  the  sandy  shore 

Of  swift  Eurotas,  or  on  Cynthus  greene, 
Where  all  the  Nymphes  have  her  unwares  forlore, 
Wandreth  alone  with  bow  and  arrowes  keene, 
To  seeke  her  game :  Or  as  that  famous  Queene 
Of  Amazons,  whom  Pyrrhus  did  destroy, 
The  day  that  first  of  Priame  she  was  seene, 
Did  shew  her  selfe  in  great  triumphant  joy, 
To  succour  the  weake  state  of  sad  afflicted  Troy.- 

xxxii.  Such  when  as  hartlesse  Trompart  her  did  vew, 
He  was  dismayed  in  his  coward  minde, 
And  doubted  whether  he  himselfe  should  shew, 
Or  fly  away,  or  bide  alone  behinde ; 
Both  feare  and  hope  he  in  her  face  did  finde : 
When  she  at  last  him  spying  thus  bespake : 
"  Hayle,  Groome !  didst  not  thou  see  a  bleeding  Hynde, 
Whose  right  haunch  earst  my  stedfast  arrow  strake  ? 
If  thou  didst,  tell  me,  that  I  may  her  overtake." 

xxxiii.  Wherewith  reviv'd,  this  answere  forth  he  threw: 
"  0  Goddesse,  (for  such  I  thee  take  to  bee) 
For  nether  doth  thy  face  terrestriall  shew, 
Nor  voyce  sound  mortall;  I  avow  to  thee, 
Such  wounded  beast  as  that  I  did  not  see, 
Sith  earst  into  this  forrest  wild  I  came. 
But  mote  thy  goodlyhed  forgive  it  mee, 
To  weete  which  of  the  gods  I  shall  thee  name, 
That  unto  thee  dew  worship  I  may  rightly  frame.r 

xxxiv.  To  whom  she  thus — but  ere  her  words  ensewd, 
Unto  the  bush  her  eye  did  suddein  glaunce, 
In  which  vaine  Braggadocchio  was  mewd, 
And  saw  it  stirre :  she  lef te  her  percing  launce, 
And  towards  gan  a  deadly  shafte  advaunce, 
In  mind  to  marke  the  beast.     At  which  sad  stowre 

Book  II— Canto  III 


Trompart  forth  stept  to  stay  the  mortall  chaunce, 

Out  crying;  "  01  what  ever  hevenly  powre, 

Or  earthly  wight  thou  be,  withhold  this  deadly  howre. 

kxxv.  "  O!  stay  thy  hand;  for  yonder  is  no  game 
For  thy  fiers  arrowes,  them  to  exercize; 
But  loe !  my  Lord,  my  liege,  whose  warlike  name 
Is  far  renowmd  through  many  bold  emprize ; 
And  now  in  shade  he  shrowded  yonder  lies." 
She  staid :  with  that  he  crauld  out  of  his  nest, 
Forth  creeping  on  his  caitive  hands  and  thies; 
And,  standing  stoutly  up,  his  lofty  crest 
Did  fiercely  shake,  and  rowze  as  comming  late  from  rest. 

xxxvi.  As  fearfull  fowle,  that  long  in  secret  cave 

For  dread  of  soring  hauke  her  selfe  hath  hid, 

Nor  caring  how,  her  silly  life  to  save, 

She  her  gay  painted  plumes  disorderid; 

Seeing  at  last  her  selfe  from  daunger  rid, 

Peepes  forth,  and  soone  renews  her  native  pride: 

She  gins  her  feathers  fowle  disfigured 

Prowdly  to  prune,  and  sett  on  every  side ; 

She  shakes  off  shame,  ne  thinks  how  erst  she  did  her  hide. 

xxxvii.  So  when  her  goodly  visage  he  beheld, 

He  gan  himself e  to  vaunt:  but,  when  he  vewd 
Those  deadly  tooles  which  in  her  hand  she  held, 
Soone  into  other  fitts  he  was  transmewd, 
Till  she  to  him  her  gracious  speach  renewd : 
"  All  haile,  Sir  knight!  and  well  may  thee  befall, 
As  all  the  like,  which  honor  have  purse wd 
Through  deeds  of  armes  and  prowesse  martiall. 
All  vertue  merits  praise,  but  such  the  most  of  all." 

xxxviii.  To  whom  he  thus:  "  0  fairest  under  skie! 

Trew  be  thy  words,  and  worthy  of  thy  praise, 

That  warlike  feats  doest  highest  glorifie. 

Therein  I  have  spent  all  my  youthly  daies, 

And  many  battailes  fought  and  many  fraies 

Throughout  the  world,  wher-so  they  might  be  found, 

Endevoring  my  dreaded  name  to  raise 

Above  the  Moone,  that  fame  may  it  resound 

In  her  eternall  tromp,  with  laurell  girlond  cround. 

206  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  "  But  what  art  thou,  0  Lady !  which  doest  raunge 
In  this  wilde  forest,  where  no  pleasure  is, 
And  doest  not  it  for  joyous  court  exchaunge, 
Emongst  thine  equall  peres,  where  happy  blis 
And  all  delight  does  raigne,  much  more  then  this  ? 
There  thou  maist  love,  and  dearly  loved  be, 
And  swim  in  pleasure,  which  thou  here  doest  mis : 
There  maist  thou  best  be  seene,  and  best  maist  see : 
The  wood  is  fit  for  beasts,  the  court  is  fitt  for  thee.', 

XL.  "  Who-so  in  pompe  of  prowd  estate  "  (quoth  she) 
"  Does  swim,  and  bathes  him  selfe  in  courtly  blis, 
Does  waste  his  dayes  in  darke  obscuritee, 
And  in  oblivion  ever  buried  is ; 
Where  ease  abownds  yt's  eath  to  doe  amis: 
But  who  his  limbs  with  labours,  and  his  mynd 
Behaves  with  cares,  cannot  so  easy  mis. 
Abroad  in  armes,  at  home  in  studious  kynd, 
Who  seekes  with  painfull  toile  shall  honor  soonest  fynd : 

XLi.  "  In  woods,  in  waves,  in  warres,  she  wonts  to  dwell, 
And  wil  be  found  with  perill  and  with  paine; 
Ne  can  the  man  that  moulds  in  ydle  cell 
Unto  her  happy  mansion  attaine : 
Before  her  gate  high  God  did  Sweate  ordaine, 
And  wakefull  watches  ever  to  abide ; 
But  easy  is  the  way  and  passage  plaine 
To  pleasures  pallace :   it  may  soone  be  spide, 
And  day  and  night  her  dores  to  all  stand  open  wide. 

xlii.  "  In  Princes  court  " — The  rest  she  would  have  sayd, 
But  that  the  foolish  man,  fild  with  delight 
Of  her  sweete  words  that  all  his  sence  dismayd, 
And  with  her  wondrous  beauty  ravisht  quight, 
Gan  burne  in  filthy  lust;  and,  leaping  light, 
Thought  in  his  bastard  armes  her  to  embrace. 
With  that  she,  swarving  backe,  her  Javelin  bright 
Against  him  bent,  and  fiercely  did  menace : 
So  turned  her  about,  and  fled  away  apace. 

xliii.  Which  when  the  Pesaunt  saw,  amazd  he  stood, 
And  grieved  at  her  flight ;  yet  durst  he  nott 
Pursew  her  steps  through  wild  unknowen  wood: 

Book  II — Canto  III  207 

Besides  he  feard  her  wrath,  and  threatned  shott, 

Whiles  in  the  bush  he  lay,  not  yett  forgo tt: 

Ne  car'd  he  greatly  for  her  presence  vayne, 

But  turning  said  to  Trompart;  "  What  fowle  blott 

Is  this  to  knight,  that  Lady  should  agayne 

Depart  to  woods  untoucht,  and  leave  so  proud  disdayne." 

xliv.  "  Perdy,"  (said  Trompart)  "  lett  her  pas  at  will, 
Least  by  her  presence  daunger  mote  befall; 
For  who  can  tell  (and  sure  I  feare  it  ill) 
But  that  shee  is  some  powre  celestiall  ? 
For  whiles  she  spake  her  great  words  did  appall 
My  feeble  corage,  and  my  heart  oppresse, 
That  yet  I  quake  and  tremble  over-all." 
"  And  I,"  (said  Braggadocchio)  "  thought  no  lesse, 
When  first  I  heard  her  horn  sound  with  such  ghastlinesse. 

xlv.  "  For  from  my  mothers  wombe  this  grace  I  have 
Me  given  by  eternall  destiny, 
That  earthly  thing  may  not  my  corage  brave 
Dismay  with  feare,  or  cause  one  foot  to  flye, 
But  either  hellish  feends,  or  powres  on  hye: 
Which  was  the  cause,  when  earst  that  home  I  heard, 
Weening  it  had  beene  thunder  in  the  skye, 
1  hid  my  selfe  from  it,  as  one  affeard ; 
But,  when  I  other  knew,  my  self  I  boldly  reard< 

xl vi.  "  But  now,  for  feare  of  worse  that  may  betide, 
Let  us  soone  hence  depart."     They  soone  agree: 
So  to  his  steed  he  gott,  and  gan  to  ride 
As  one  unfitt  therefore,  that  all  might  see 
He  had  not  trayned  bene  in  chevalree. 
Which  well  that  valiaunt  courser  did  discerne ; 
For  he  despisd  to  tread  in  dew  degree, 
But  chaufd  and  fom'd  with  corage  fiers  and  sterne^ 
And  to  be  easd  of  that  base  burden  still  did  erne. 

208  The  Faerie  Queene 


Guyon  does  Furor  bind  in  chaines, 
And  stops  occasion: 
Delivers  Phaon,  and  therefore 
By  strife  is  rayld  upporu 

I.  In  brave  poursuitt  of  honorable  deed, 
There  is  I  know  not  (what)  great  difference 
Betweene  the  vulgar  and  the  noble  seed, 
Which  unto  things  of  valorous  pretence 
Seemes  to  be  borne  by  native  influence; 
As  feates  of  armes,  and  love  to  entertainer 
But  chiefly  skill  to  ride  seemes  a  science 
Proper  to  gentle  blood :  some  others  faine 
To  menage  steeds,  as  did  this  vaunter,  but  in  vaine. 

II.  But  he,  the  rightfull  owner  of  that  steede, 
Who  well  could  menage  and  subdew  his  pride, 
The  whiles  on  foot  was  forced  for  to  yeed 
With  that  blacke  Palmer,  his  most  trusty  guide, 
Who  suffred  not  his  wandring  feete  to  slide ; 
But  when  strong  passion,  or  weake  fleshlinesse, 
Would  from  the  right  way  seeke  to  draw  him  wide, 
He  would,  through  temperaunce  and  stedfastnesse, 
Teach  him  the  weak  to  strengthen,  and  the  strong  suppresse. 

in.  It  fortuned,  forth  faring  on  his  way, 
He  saw  from  far,  or  seemed  for  to  see, 
Some  troublous  uprore  or  contentious  fray, 
Whereto  he  drew  in  hast  it  to  agree. 
A  mad  man,  or  that  feigned  mad  to  bee, 
Drew  by  the  heare  along  upon  the  grownd 
A  handsom  stripling  with  great  crueltee, 
Whom  sore  he  bett,  and  gor'd  with  many  a  wownd, 
That  cheekes  with  teares,  and  sydes  with  blood,  did  all 

iv.  And  him  behynd  a  wicked  Hag  did  stalke, 
In  ragged  robes  and  filthy  disaray ; 
Her  other  leg  was  lame,  that  she  no'te  walke, 

Book  II — Canto  IV  209 

But  on  a  staffe  her  feeble  steps  did  stay: 

Her  lockes,  that  loathly  were  and  hoarie  gray, 

Grew  all  afore,  and  loosely  hong  unrold ; 

But  all  behinde  was  bald,  and  worne  away, 

That  none  thereof  could  ever  taken  hold ; 

And  eke  her  face  ill-favourd,  full  of  wrinckles  old. 

v.  And  ever  as  she  went  her  toung  did  walke 
In  fowle  reproch,  and  termes  of  vile  despight, 
Provoking  him,  by  her  outrageous  talke, 
To  heape  more  vengeance  on  that  wretched  wight : 
Sometimes  she  raught  him  stones,  wherwith  to  smite, 
Sometimes  her  staffe,  though  it  her  one  leg  were, 
Withouten  which  she  could  not  goe  upright; 
Ne  any  evill  meanes  she  did  forbeare, 
That  might  him  move  to  wrath,  and  indignation  reare. 

vi.  The  noble  Guy  on,  mov'd  with  great  remorse, 
Approching,  first  the  Hag  did  thrust  away; 
And  after,  adding  more  impetuous  forse, 
His  mighty  hands  did  on  the  madman  lay, 
And  pluckt  him  backe ;  who,  all  on  fire  streight  way, 
Against  him  turning  all  his  fell  intent, 
With  beastly  brutish  rage  gan  him  assay, 
And  smott,  and  bitt,  and  kickt,  and  scratcht,  and  rent, 
And  did  he  wist  not  what  in  his  avengement. 

vn.  And  sure  he  was  a  man  of  mickle  might, 
Had  he  had  governaunce  it  well  to  guyde ; 
But,  when  the  frantick  fitt  inflamd  his  spright, 
His  force  was  vaine,  and  strooke  more  often  wyde, 
Then  at  the  aymed  marke  which  he  had  eyde : 
And  oft  himselfe  he  chaunst  to  hurt  unwares, 
Why  lest  reason,  blent  through  passion,  nought  descry  de ; 
But,  as  a  blindfold  Bull,  at  randon  fares, 
And  where  he  hits  nought  knowes,  and  whom  he  hurts 
nought  cares. 

viii.  His  rude  assault  and  rugged  handeling 

Straunge  seemed  to  the  knight,  that  aye  with  foe 

In  fayre  defence  and  goodly  menaging 

Of  armes  was  wont  to  fight ;  yet  nathemoe 

Was  he  abashed  now,  not  fighting  so ; 

But  more  enfierced  through  his  currish  play, 

210  The  Faerie  Queene 

Him  sternly  grypt,  and  hailing  to  and  fro, 

To  overthrow  him  strongly  did  assay, 

But  overthrew  him  selfe  un wares,  and  lower  lay : 

ix.  And  being  downe  the  villein  sore  did  beate 
And  bruze  with  clownish  fistes  his  manly  face; 
And  eke  the  Hag,  with  many  a  bitter  threat, 
Still  cald  upon  to  kill  him  in  the  place. 
With  whose  reproch,  and  odious  menace, 
The  knight  emboyling  in  his  haughtie  hart 
Knitt  all  his  forces,  and  gan  soone  unbrace 
His  grasping  hold :  so  lightly  did  upstart, 
And  drew  his  deadly  weapon  to  maintaine  his  part. 

X.  Which  when  the  Palmer  saw,  he  loudly  cryde, 
"  Not  so,  0  Guyon!  never  thinke  that  so 
That  Monster  can  be  maistred  or  destroyd : 
He  is  not,  ah !  he  is  not  such  a  foe, 
As  Steele  can  wound,  or  strength  can  overthroe. 
That  same  is  Furor,  cursed  cruel  wight, 
That  unto  knighthood  workes  much  shame  and  woe ; 
And  that  same  Hag,  his  aged  mother,  hight 
Occasion;  the  roote  of  all  wrath  and  despight. 

XI.  "  With  her,  whoso  will  raging  Furor  tame, 
Must  first  begin,  and  well  her  amenage : 
First  her  restraine  from  her  reprochfull  blame 
And  evill  meanes,  with  which  she  doth  enrage 
Her  frantick  sonne,  and  kindles  his  corage ; 
Then,  when  she  is  withdrawne  or  strong  withstood, 
It's  eath  his  ydle  fury  to  aswage, 
And  calme  the  tempest  of  his  passion  wood : 
The  bankes  are  overflowne  when  stopped  is  the  flood." 

xu.  Therewith  Sir  Guyon  left  his  first  emprise, 
And,  turning  to  that  woman,  fast  her  hent 
By  the  hoare  lockes  that  hong  before  her  eyes, 
And  to  the  ground  her  threw :  yet  n'ouid  she  stent 
Her  bitter  rayling  and  foule  revilement, 
But  still  provokt  her  sonne  to  wreake  her  wrong ; 
But  nathelesse  he  did  her  still  torment, 
And,  catching  hold  of  her  ungratious  tonge 
Thereon  an  yron  lock  did  fasten  firme  and  strong. 

Book  II— Canto  IV  211 

xiii.  Then,  whenas  use  of  speach  was  from  her  reft, 

With  her  two  crooked  handes  she  signes  did  make, 
And  beckned  him,  the  last  help  she  had  left; 
But  he  that  last  left  helpe  away  did  take, 
And  both  her  handes  fast  bound  unto  a  stake, 
That  she  note  stirre.     Then  gan  her  sonne  to  flye 
Full  fast  away,  and  did  her  quite  forsake; 
But  Guyon  after  him  in  hast  did  hye, 
And  soone  him  overtooke  in  sad  perplexitye. 

xiv.  In  his  strong  armes  he  stifly  him  embraste, 
Who  him  gainstriving  nought  at  all  prevaild; 
For  all  his  power  was  utterly  defaste, 
And  furious  fitts  at  earst  quite  weren  quaild : 
Oft  he  re'nforst,  and  oft  his  forces  fayld, 
Yet  yield  he  would  not,  nor  his  rancor  slack. 
Then  him  to  ground  he  cast,  and  rudely  hayld, 
And  both  his  hands  fast  bound  behind  his  backe, 
And  both  his  feet  in  fetters  to  an  yron  racke. 

xv.  With  hundred  yron  chaines  he  did  him  bind, 

And  hundred  knots,  that  did  him  sore  constrame; 
Yet  his  great  yron  teeth  he  still  did  grind 
And  grimly  gnash,  threatning  revenge  in  vaine: 
His  burning  eyen,  whom  bloody  strakes  did  staine, 
Stared  full  wide,  and  threw  forth  sparkes  of  fyre ; 
And  more  for  ranck  despight  then  for  great  paine, 
Shakt  his  long  locks  colourd  like  copper-wyre, 
And  bitt  his  tawny  beard  to  shew  his  raging  yre. 

xvi.  Thus  when  as  Guyon  Furor  had  captivd, 

Turning  about  he  saw  that  wretched  Squyre, 

Whom  that  mad  man  of  life  nigh  late  deprivd, 

Lying  on  ground,  all  soild  with  blood  and  myre: 

Whom  whenas  he  perceived  to  respyre, 

He  gan  to  comfort,  and  his  woundes  to  dresse. 

Being  at  last  recured,  he  gan  inquyre 

What  hard  mishap  him  brought  to  such  distresse, 

And  made  that  caytives  thrall,  the  thrall  of  wretchednesse. 

xvii.  With  hart  then  throbbing,  and  with  watry  eyes, 

"  Fayre  Sir  "  (quoth  he)  "  What  man  can  shun  the  hap, 
That  hidden  lyes  unwares  him  to  surpryse  ? 

212  The  Faerie  Queene 

Misfortune  waites  advantage  to  entrap 
The  man  most  wary  in  her  whelming  lap: 
So  me  weake  wretch,  of  many  weakest  one, 
Unweeting  and  unware  of  such  mishap, 
She  brought  to  mischiefe  through  Occasion, 
Where  this  same  wicked  villein  did  me  light  upon. 

xviii.  "  It  was  a  faithlesse  Squire,  that  was  the  sourse 
Of  all  my  sorrow  and  of  these  sad  teares, 
With  whom  from  tender  dug  of  commune  nourse 
Attonce  I  was  upbrought;  and  eft,  when  yeares 
More  rype  us  reason  lent  to  chose  our  Peares, 
Our  selves  in  league  of  vowed  love  wee  knitt; 
In  which  we  long  time,  without  gealous  feares 
Or  faultie  thoughts,  contynewd  as  was  fitt; 
And  for  my  part,  I  vow,  dissembled  not  a  whitt. 

xix.  "  It  was  my  fortune,  commune  to  that  age, 
To  love  a  Lady  fayre  of  great  degree, 
The  which  was  borne  of  noble  parentage, 
And  set  in  highest  seat  of  dignitee, 
Yet  seemd  no  lesse  to  love  then  lov'd  to  bee: 
Long  I  her  serv'd,  and  found  her  faithful  still, 
Ne  ever  thing  could  cause  us  disagree. 
Love,  that  two  harts  makes  one,  makes  eke  one  will; 
Each  strove  to  please,  and  others  pleasure  to  fulfill. 

XX.  "  My  friend,  hight  Philemon,  I  did  partake 
Of  all  my  love  and  all  my  privitie; 
Who  greatly  joyous  seemed  for  my  sake, 
And  gratious  to  that  Lady  as  to  mee ; 
Ne  ever  wight  that  mote  so  welcome  bee 
As  he  to  her,  withouten  blott  or  blame ; 
He  ever  thing  that  she  could  think  or  see, 
But  unto  him  she  would  impart  the  same. 
0  wretched  man,  that  would  abuse  so  gentle  Dame! 

xxi.  "  At  last  such  grace  I  found,  and  meanes  I  wrought, 
That  I  that  Lady  to  my  spouse  had  wonne; 
Accord  of  friendes,  consent  of  Parents  sought, 
Afiyaunce  made,  my  happinesse  begonne, 
There  wanted  nought  but  few  rites  to  be  donne, 
Which  mariage  make :   that  day  too  farre  did  seeme. 

Book  II — Canto  IV  213 

Most  joyous  man,  on  whom  the  shining  Sunne 

Did  shew  his  face,  my  selfe  I  did  esteeme, 

And  that  my  falser  friend  did  no  less  joyous  deeme. 

xxii.  "  But  ear  that  wished  day  his  beame  disclosd, 
He,  either  envying  my  toward  good, 
Or  of  him  selfe  to  treason  ill  disposed, 
One  day  unto  me  came  in  friendly  mood, 
And  told  for  secret,  how  he  understood 
That  Lady,  whom  I  had  to  me  assynd, 
Had  both  distaind  her  honorable  blood, 
And  eke  the  faith  which  she  to  me  did  bynd ; 
And  therefore  wisht  me  stay  till  I  more  truth  should  fynd. 

xxiii.  "  The  gnawing  anguish,  and  sharp  gelosy, 
Which  his  sad  speach  infixed  in  my  brest, 
Ranckled  so  sore,  and  festred  inwardly, 
That  my  engreeved  mind  could  find  no  rest, 
Till  that  the  truth  thereof  I  did  out  wrest ; 
And  him  besought,  by  that  same  sacred  band 
Betwixt  us  both,  to  counsell  me  the  best: 
He  then  with  solemne  oath  and  plighted  hand 
Assurd,  ere  long  the  truth  to  let  me  understand. 

xxiv.  "  Ere  long  with  like  againe  he  boorded  mee, 
Saying,  he  now  had  boulted  all  the  floure, 
And  that  it  was  a  groome  of  base  degree, 
Which  of  my  love  was  partener  Paramoure: 
Who  used  in  a  darkesome  inner  bowre 
Her  oft  to  meete :  which  better  to  approve, 
He  promised  to  bring  me  at  that  howre, 
When  I  should  see  that  would  me  nearer  move, 
And  drive  me  to  withdraw  my  blind  abused  love. 

xxv.  "  This  gracelesse  man,  for  furtherance  of  his  guile, 
Did  court  the  handmayd  of  my  Lady  deare, 
Who,  glad  t'  embosome  his  affection  vile, 
Did  all  she  might  more  pleasing  to  appeare. 
One  day,  to  worke  her  to  his  will  more  neare, 
He  woo'd  her  thus:   Pryene,  (so  she  hight,) 
What  great  despight  doth  fortune  to  thee  beare, 
Thus  lowly  to  abase  thy  beautie  bright, 
That  it  should  not  deface  all  others  lesser  light? 

214  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  But  if  she  had  her  least  helpe  to  thee  lent, 
T'adorne  thy  forme  according  thy  desart, 
Their  blazing  pride  thou  wouldest  soone  have  blent, 
And  staynd  their  prayses  with  thy  least  good  part; 
Ne  should  faire  Claribell  with  all  her  art, 
Tho'  she  thy  Lady  be,  approch  thee  neare: 
For  proofe  thereof,  this  evening,  as  thou  art, 
Aray  thyselfe  in  her  most  gorgeous  geare, 
That  I  may  more  delight  in  thy  embracement  deare. 

xxvii.  "  The  Mayden,  proud  through  praise  and  mad  through 
Him  hearkned  to,  and  soone  her  selfe  arrayd, 
The  whiles  to  me  the  treachour  did  remove 
His  craf tie  engin ;  and,  as  he  had  sayd, 
Me  leading,  in  a  secret  corner  layd, 
The  sad  spectatour  of  my  Tragedie: 
Where  left,  he  went,  and  his  owne  false  part  playd, 
Disguised  like  that  groome  of  base  degree, 
Whom  he  had  feignd  th'  abuser  of  my  love  to  bee. 

xxviii.  "  Eftsoones  he  came  unto  th'  appointed  place, 
And  with  him  brought  Pryene,  rich  arayd, 
In  Claribellaes  clothes.     Her  proper  face 
I  not  descerned  in  that  darkesome  shade, 
But  weend  it  was  my  love  with  whom  he  playd. 
Ah  God !  what  horrour  and  tormenting  griefe 
My  hart,  my  handes,  mine  eies,  and  all  assayd ! 
Me  liefer  were  ten  thousand  deathes  priefe 
Then  wounde  of  gealous  worme,  and  shame  of  such 

xxix.  "  I  home  retourning,  fraught  with  fowle  despight, 
And  chawing  vengeaunce  all  the  way  I  went, 
Soone  as  my  loathed  love  appeard  in  sight, 
With  wrathfull  hand  I  slew  her  innocent, 
That  after  soone  I  dearely  did  lament; 
For,  when  the  cause  of  that  outrageous  deede 
Demaunded,  I  made  plaine  and  evident, 
Her  faultie  Handmayd,  which  that  bale  did  breede, 
Confest  how  Philemon  her  wrought  to  chaunge  her 

Book  II — Canto  IV  215 

xxx.  "  Which  when  I  heard,  with  horrible  affright 
And  hellish  fury  all  enragd,  I  sought 
Upon  myselfe  that  vengeable  despight 
To  punish:  yet  it  better  first  I  thought 
To  wreake  my  wrath  on  him  that  first  it  wrought: 
To  Philemon,  false  fay  tour  Philemon, 
I  cast  to  pay  that  I  so  dearely  bought. 
Of  deadly  drugs  I  gave  him  drinke  anon, 
And  washt  away  his  guilt  with  guilty  potion. 

xxxi.  "  Thus  heaping  crime  on  crime,  and  griefe  on  griefe, 
To  losse  of  love  adjoyning  losse  of  frend, 
I  meant  to  purge  both  with  a  third  mischiefe, 
And  in  my  woes  beginner  it  to  end : 
That  was  Pryene ;  she  did  first  offend, 
She  last  should  smart:  with  which  cruell  intent, 
When  I  at  her  my  murdrous  blade  did  bend, 
She  fled  away  with  ghastly  dreriment, 
And  I,  poursewing  my  fell  purpose,  after  went. 

xxxii.  "  Feare  gave  her  winges,  and  rage  enforst  my  flight; 
Through  woods  and  plaines  so  long  I  did  her  chace, 
Till  this  mad  man,  whom  your  victorious  might 
Hath  now  fast  bound,  me  met  in  middle  space. 
As  I  her,  so  he  me  poursewd  apace, 
And  shortly  overtooke :  I,  breathing  yre, 
Sore  chauffed  at  my  stay  in  such  a  cace, 
And  with  my  heat  kindled  his  cruell  fyre; 
Which  kindled  once,  his  mother  did  more  rage  inspyre. 

xxxm.  "  Betwixt  them  both  they  have  me  doen  to  dye, 

Through  wounds,  and  strokes,  and  stubborne  handeling, 
That  death  were  better  then  such  agony 
As  griefe  and  fury  unto  me  did  bring ; 
Of  which  in  me  yet  stickes  the  mortall  sting, 
That  during  life  will  never  be  appeased !  " 
When  he  thus  ended  had  his  sorrowing, 
Said  Guyon;  "  Squyre,  sore  have  ye  beene  diseasd, 
But  all  your  hurts  may  soone  through  temperance  be 

xxxrv.  Then  gan  the  Palmer  thus ;  "  Most  wretched  man, 
That  to  affections  does  the  bridle  lend ! 
In  their  beginning  they  are  weake  and  wan, 

216  The  Faerie  Queene 

But  soone  through  surT'rance  growe  to  fearefull  end : 
Whiles  they  are  weake,  betimes  with  them  contend; 
For,  when  they  once  to  perfect  strength  do  grow, 
Strong  warres  they  make,  and  cruell  battry  bend 
Gainst  fort  of  Reason,  it  to  overthrow: 
Wrath,  gelosy,  griefe,  love,  this  Squyre  have  laide  thus 

xxxv.  "  Wrath,  gealosie,  griefe,  love,  do  thus  expell: 
Wrath  is  a  fire;  and  gealosie  a  weede; 
Griefe  is  a  flood;  and  love  a  monster  fell; 
The  fire  of  sparkes,  the  weede  of  little  seede, 
The  flood  of  drops,  the  Monster  filth  did  breede : 
But  sparks,  seed,  drops,  and  filth,  do  thus  delay ; 
The  sparks  soone  quench,  the  springing  seed  outweed, 
The  drops  dry  up,  and  filth  wipe  cleane  away : 
So  shall  wrath,  gealosy,  griefe,  love,  die  and  decay/ ' 

xxxvi.  "  Unlucky  Squire/'  (saide  Guyon)  "  sith  thou  hast 
Falne  into  mischiefe  through  intemperaunce, 
Henceforth  take  heede  of  that  thou  now  hast  past, 
And  guyde  thy  waies  with  warie  governaunce, 
Least  worse  betide  thee  by  some  later  chaunce, 
But  read  how  art  thou  nam'd,  and  of  what  kin  ?  " 
"  Phaon  I  hight,"  (quoth  he)  "  and  do  advaunce 
Mine  auncestry  from  famous  Coradin, 
W7ho  first  to  rayse  our  house  to  honour  did  begin." 

xxxvu.  Thus  as  he  spake,  lo !  far  away  they  spyde 
A  varlet  ronning  towardes  hastily, 
Whose  flying  feet  so  fast  their  way  applyde, 
That  round  about  a  cloud  of  dust  did  fly, 
Which,  mingled  all  with  sweate,  did  dim  his  eye. 
He  soone  approched,  panting,  breathlesse,  whot, 
And  all  so  soy  Id  that  none  could  him  descry : 
His  countenance  was  bold,  and  bashed  not 
For  Guyons  lookes,  but  scornef  ull  eyeglaunce  at  him  shot. 

xxxvm.  Behind  his  backe  he  bore  a  brasen  shield, 
On  which  was  drawen  faire,  in  colours  fit, 
A  flaming  fire  in  midst  of  bloody  field, 
And  round  about  the  wreath  this  word  was  writ, 
Burnt  I  doe  burne.     Right  well  beseemed  it 
To  be  the  shield  of  some  redoubted  knight; 

Book  II— Canto  IV 


And  in  his  hand  two  dartes,  exceeding  flit 

And  deadly  sharpe,  he  held,  whose  heads  were  dight 

In  poyson  and  in  blood  of  malice  and  despight. 

xxxix.  When  he  in  presence  came,  to  Guyon  first 

He  boldly  spake;  "  Sir  knight,  if  knight  thou  bee, 

Abandon  this  forestalled  place  at  erst, 

For  feare  of  further  harme,  I  counsell  thee; 

Or  bide  the  chaunce  at  thine  owne  jeopardee." 

The  knight  at  his  great  boldnesse  wondered; 

And,  though  he  scornd  his  ydle  vanitee, 

Yet  mildly  him  to  purpose  answered ; 

For  not  to  grow  of  nought  he  it  conjectured. 

XL.  "  Varlet,  this  place  most  dew  to  me  I  deeme, 
Yielded  by  him  that  held  it  forcibly : 
But  whence  should  come  that  harme,  which  thou  dost 

To  threat  to  him  that  mindes  his  chaunce  t'  abye  ?  " 
"  Perdy,"  (sayd  he)  "  here  comes,  and  is  hard  by, 
A  knight  of  wondrous  powre  and  great  assay, 
That  never  yet  encountred  enemy 
But  did  him  deadly  daunt,  or  fowle  dismay; 
Ne  thou  for  better  hope,  if  thou  his  presence  stay." 

xli.  "  How   hight   he   then/'   (said    Guyon)   "  and    from 
whence  ?  " 
"  Pyrochles  is  his  name,  renowmed  farre 
For  his  bold  feates  and  hardy  confidence, 
Full  oft  approvd  in  many  a  cruell  warre ; 
The  brother  of  Cymochles,  both  which  arre 
The  sonnes  of  old  Aerates  and  Despight; 
Aerates,  sonne  of  Phlegeton  and  Jarre ; 
But  Phlegeton  is  sonne  of  Herebus  and  Night; 
But  Herebus  sonne  of  Aeternitie  is  hight. 

xlii.  "  So  from  immortall  race  he  does  proceede, 

That  mortall  hands  may  not  withstand  his  might, 
Drad  for  his  derring  doe  and  bloody  deed; 
For  all  in  blood  and  spoile  is  his  delight. 
His  am  I  Atin,  his  in  wrong  and  right, 
That  matter  make  for  him  to  worke  upon, 
And  stirre  him  up  to  strife  and  cruell  fight. 

2i  8  The  Faerie  Queene 

Fly  therefore,  fly  this  fearefull  stead  anon, 
Least  thy  foolhardize  worke  thy  sad  confusion.' ' 

xliii.  "  His  be  that  care,  whom  most  it  doth  concerne," 
(Sayd  he)  "  but  whither  with  such  hasty  flight 
Art  thou  now  bownd  ?  for  well  mote  I  discerne 
Great  cause,  that  carries  thee  so  swifte  and  light." 
"  My  Lord,"  (quoth  he)  "  me  sent,  and  streight  behight 
To  seeke  Occasion,  where  so  she  bee: 
For  he  is  all  disposd  to  bloody  fight, 
And  breathes  out  wrath  and  hainous  crueltee : 
Hard  is  his  hap  that  first  fals  in  his  jeopardee." 

xliv.  "  Mad  man,"  (said  then  the  Palmer)  "  that  does  seeke 
Occasion  to  wrath,  and  cause  of  strife: 
Shee  comes  unsought,  and  shonned  followes  eke. 
Happy !  who  can  abstaine,  when  Rancor  rife 
Kindles  Revenge,  and  threats  his  rusty  knife. 
Woe  never  wants  where  every  cause  is  caught; 
And  rash  Occasion  makes  unquiet  life !  " 
"  Then  loe !    wher  bound  she  sits,  whom  thou  hast 

Said  Guyon:   "  let  that  message  to  thy  Lord  be 


xlv.  That  when  the  varlett  heard  and  saw,  streight  way 
He  wexed  wondrous  wroth,  and  said;   "  Vile  knight, 
That  knights  and  knighthood  doest  with  shame  upbray, 
And  shewst  th'  ensample  of  thy  childishe  might, 
With  silly  weake  old  woman  that  did  fight ! 
Great  glory  and  gay  spoile,  sure  hast  thou  gott, 
And  stoutly  prov'd  thy  puissaunce  here  in  sight. 
That  shall  Pyrochles  well  requite,  I  wott, 
And  with  thy  blood  abolish  so  reprochfull  blott." 

xl vi.  With  that  one  of  his  thrillant  darts  he  threw, 
Headed  with  yre  and  vengeable  despight. 
The  quivering  Steele  his  aymed  end  wel  knew, 
And  to  his  brest  it  selfe  intended  right: 
But  he  was  wary,  and,  ere  it  empight 
In  the  meant  marke,  advaunst  his  shield  atweene, 
On  which  it  seizing  no  way  enter  might, 
But  backe  rebownding  left  the  f orckhead  keene : 
Eftsoones  he  fled  away,  and  might  no  where  be  seene. 

Book  II — Canto  V  219 


Pyrochles  does  with  Guyon  fight, 
And  Furors  chayne  untyes, 
Who  him  sore  wounds:   whiles  Atin  to 
Cymochles  for  ayd  flyes. 

I.  Who  ever  doth  to  temperaunce  apply 
His  stedfast  life,  and  all  his  actions  frame, 
Trust  me,  shal  find  no  greater  enimy 
Then  stubborne  perturbation  to  the  same ; 
To  which  right  wel  the  wise  doe  give  that  name, 
For  it  the  goodly  peace  of  staied  mindes 
Does  overthrow,  and  troublous  warre  proclame: 
His  owne  woes  author,  who  so  bound  it  findes, 
As  did  Pyrochles,  and  it  wilfully  unbindes. 

11.  After  that  varlets  flight,  it  was  not  long 
Ere  on  the  plaine  fast  pricking  Guyon  spide 
One  in  bright  armes  embatteiled  full  strong, 
That,  as  the  Sunny  beames  do  glaunce  and  glide 
Upon  the  trembling  wave,  so  shined  bright, 
And  round  about  him  threw  forth  sparkling  fire, 
That  seemd  him  to  enflame  on  every  side: 
His  steed  was  bloody  red,  and  fomed  yre, 
When  with  the  maistring  spur  he  did  him  roughly  stire. 

in.  Approching  nigh,  he  never  staid  to  greete, 
Ne  chaffar  words,  prowd  corage  to  provoke, 
But  prickt  so  fiers,  that  underneath  his  feete 
The  smouldring  dust  did  rownd  about  him  smoke, 
Both  horse  and  man  nigh  able  for  to  choke ; 
And  fayrly  couching  his  steeleheaded  speare, 
Him  first  saluted  with  a  sturdy  stroke: 
It  booted  nought  Sir  Guyon,  comming  neare, 
To  thincke  such  hideous  puissaunce  on  foot  to  beare  ■ 

iv.  But  lightly  shunned  it;  and,  passing  by, 
With  his  bright  blade  did  smite  at  him  so  fell, 
That  the  sharpe  Steele,  arriving  forcibly 

220  The  Faerie  Queene 

On  his  broad  shield,  bitt  not,  but  glauncing  fell 

On  his  horse  necke  before  the  quilted  sell, 

And  from  the  head  the  body  sundred  quight. 

So  him  dismounted  low  he  did  compell 

On  foot  with  him  to  matchen  equall  fight : 

The  truncked  beast  fast  bleeding  did  him  fowly  dight. 

v.  Sore  bruzed  with  the  fall  he  slow  uprose, 
And  all  enraged  thus  him  loudly  shent; 
"  Disleall  Knight,  whose  coward  corage  chose 
To  wreake  it  selfe  on  beast  all  innocent, 
And  shund  the  marke  at  which  it  should  be  ment ; 
Therby  thine  armes  seem  strong,  but  manhood  frayl: 
So  hast  thou  oft  with  guile  thine  honor  blent; 
But  litle  may  such  guile  thee  now  avayl, 
If  wonted  force  and  fortune  doe  me  not  much  fayl." 

vi.  With  that  he  drew  his  flaming  sword,  and  strooke 
At  him  so  fiercely,  that  the  upper  marge 
Of  his  sevenfolded  shield  away  it  tooke, 
And,  glauncing  on  his  helmet,  made  a  large 
And  open  gash  therein :  were  not  his  targe 
That  broke  the  violence  of  his  intent, 
The  weary  sowle  from  thence  it  would  discharge ; 
Nathelesse  so  sore  a  buff  to  him  it  lent, 
That  made  him  reele,  and  to  his  brest  his  bever  bent. 

vn.  Exceeding  wroth  was  Guyon  at  that  blow, 
And  much  ashamd  that  stroke  of  living  arme 
Should  him  dismay,  and  make  him  stoup  so  low, 
Though  otherwise  it  did  him  litle  harme : 
Tho,  hurling  high  his  yron  braced  arme, 
He  smote  so  manly  on  his  shoulder  plate, 
That  all  his  left  side  it  did  quite  disarme ; 
Yet  there  the  steel  stayd  not,  but  inly  bate 
Deepe  in  his  flesh,  and  opened  wide  a  red  floodgate. 

viii.  Deadly  dismayd  with  horror  of  that  dint 
Pyrochles  was,  and  grieved  eke  entyre; 
Yet  nathemore  did  it  his  fury  stint, 
But  added  flame  unto  his  former  fire, 
That  wel  nigh  molt  his  hart  in  raging  yre: 
Ne  thenceforth  his  approved  skill,  to  ward, 

Book  II — Canto  V  221 

Or  strike,  or  hurtle  rownd  in  warlike  gyre, 
Remembred  he,  ne  car'd  for  his  saufgard, 
But  rudely  rag'd,  and  like  a  cruell  tygre  far'd. 

ix.  He  hewd,  and  lasht,  and  foynd,  and  thondred  blowes, 
And  every  way  did  seeke  into  his  life; 
Ne  plate,  ne  male,  could  ward  so  mighty  throwes, 
But  yielded  passage  to  his  cruell  knife. 
But  Guyon,  in  the  heat  of  all  his  strife, 
Was  wary  wise,  and  closely  did  awayt 
Avauntage,  whilest  his  foe  did  rage  most  rife: 
Sometimes  athwart,  sometimes  he  strook  him  strayt, 
And  falsed  oft  his  blowes  t'  illude  him  with  such  bayt 

x.  Like  as  a  Lyon,  whose  imperiall  powre 
A  prowd  rebellious  Unicorn  defyes, 
T  avoide  the  rash  assault  and  wrathful  stowre 
Of  his  fiers  foe,  him  to  a  tree  applyes, 
And  when  him  ronning  in  full  course  he  spyes, 
He  slips  aside ;  the  whiles  that  furious  beast 
His  precious  home,  sought  of  his  enimyes, 
Strikes  in  the  stocke,  ne  thence  can  be  releast, 
But  to  the  mighty  victor  yields  a  bounteous  feast.: 

xi.  With  such  faire  sleight  him  Guyon  often  fayld, 
Till  at  the  last  all  breathlesse,  weary,  faint, 
Him  spying,  with  fresh  onsett  he  assayld, 
And  kindling  new  his  corage  seeming  queint, 
Strooke  him  so  hugely,  that  through  great  constraint 
He  made  him  stoup  perforce  unto  his  knee, 
And  doe  unwilling  worship  to  the  Saint, 
That  on  his  shield  depainted  he  did  see : 
Such  homage  till  that  instant  never  learned  hee, 

xii.  Whom  Guyon  seeing  stoup,  poursewed  fast 
The  present  offer  of  faire  victory, 
And  soone  his  dreadfull  blade  about  he  cast, 
Wherewith  he  smote  his  haughty  crest  so  hye, 
That  streight  on  grownd  made  him  full  low  to  lye; 
Then  on  his  brest  his  victor  foote  he  thrust: 
With  that  he  cryde,  "  Mercy!  doe  me  not  dye, 
Ne  deeme  thy  force  by  fortunes  doome  unjust, 
That  hath  (maugre  her  spight)  thus  low  me  laid  in  dust." 

222  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  Eftsoones  his  cruel  hand  Sir  Guyon  stayd, 
Tempring  the  passion  with  advizement  slow, 
And  maistring  might  on  enimy  dismayd ; 
For  th'  equall  die  of  warre  he  well  did  know: 
Then  to  him  said,  "  Live,  and  alleagaunce  owe 
To  him  that  gives  thee  life  and  liberty; 
And  henceforth  by  this  daies  ensample  trow, 
That  hasty  wroth,  and  heedlesse  hazardry, 
Doe  breede  repentaunce  late,  and  lasting  infamy.,, 

xiv.  So  up  he  let  him  rise;  who,  with  grim  looke 

And  count'naunce  sterne,  upstanding,  gan  to  grind 

His  grated  teeth  for  great  disdeigne,  and  shooke 

His  sandy  lockes,  long  hanging  downe  behind, 

Knotted  in  blood  and  dust,  for  grief  of  mind 

That  he  in  ods  of  armes  was  conquered : 

Yet  in  himselfe  some  comfort  he  did  find, 

That  him  so  noble  knight  had  maystered ; 

Whose  bounty  more  then  might,  yet  both,  he  wondered. 

xv.  Which  Guyon  marking  said,  "  Be  nought  agriev'd, 
Sir  knight,  that  thus  ye  now  subdewed  arre : 
W7as  never  man,  who  most  conquestes  atchiev'd, 
But  sometimes  had  the  worse,  and  lost  by  warre, 
Yet  shortly  gaynd  that  losse  exceeded  farre. 
Losse  is  no  shame,  nor  to  bee  lesse  then  foe; 
But  to  bee  lesser  than  himselfe  doth  marre 
Both  loosers  lott,  and  victours  prayse  alsoe: 
Vaine  others  overthrowes  who  selfe  doth  overthrow* 

xvi.  "  Fly,  0  Pyrochles!  fly  the  dreadfull  warre 
That  in  thy  selfe  thy  lesser  partes  do  move; 
Outrageous  anger,  and  woe-working  jarre, 
Direfull  impatience,  and  hart-murdring  love: 
Those,  those  thy  foes,  those  warriours  far  remove, 
Which  thee  to  endlesse  bale  captived  lead, 
But  sith  in  might  thou  didst  my  mercy  prove, 
Of  courtesie  to  mee  the  cause  aread 
That  thee  against  me  drew  with  so  impetuous  dread." 

xvn.  "  Dreadlesse,"  (said  he)  "  that  shall  I  soone  declare. 
It  was  complaind  that  thou  hadst  done  great  tort 
Unto  an  aged  woman,  poore  and  bare, 

Book  II — Canto  V  223 

And  thralled  her  in  chaines  with  strong  effort, 
Voide  of  all  succour  and  needfull  comfort; 
That  ill  beseemes  thee,  such  as  I  thee  see, 
To  worke  such  shame.    Therefore,  I  thee  exhort 
To  chaunce  thy  will,  and  set  Occasion  free, 
And  to  her  captive  sonne  yield  his  first  libertee." 

xviii.  Thereat  Sir  Guyon  smylde,  "  And  is  that  all, 
(Said  he)  "  that  thee  so  sore  displeased  hath? 
Great  mercy,  sure,  for  to  enlarge  a  thrall, 
Whose  freedom  shall  thee  turne  to  greatest  scath ! 
Nath'lesse  now  quench  thy  whott  emboyling  wrath: 
Loel  there  they  bee;  to  thee  I  yield  them  free." 
Thereat  he,  wondrous  glad,  out  of  the  path 
Did  lightly  leape,  where  he  them  bound  did  see, 
And  gan  to  breake  the  bands  of  their  captivitee. 

xix.  Soone  as  Occasion  felt  her  selfe  untyde, 
Before  her  sonne  could  well  assoyled  bee, 
She  to  her  use  returnd,  and  streight  defyde 
Both  Guyon  and  Pyrochles;  th'  one  (said  shee) 
Bycause  he  wonne ;  the  other,  because  hee 
Was  wonne.     So  matter  did  she  make  of  nought, 
To  stirre  up  strife,  and  garre  them  disagree: 
But,  soone  as  Furor  was  enlargd,  she  sought 
To  kindle  his  quencht  fyre,  and  thousand  causes  wrought. 

xx.  It  was  not  long  ere  she  inflam'd  him  so, 
That  he  would  algates  with  Pyrochles  fight, 
And  his  redeemer  chalengd  for  his  foe, 
Because  he  had  not  well  mainteind  his  right, 
But  yielded  had  to  that  same  straunger  knight. 
Now  gan  Pyrochles  wex  as  wood  as  hee, 
And  him  affronted  with  impatient  might: 
So  both  together  fiers  engrasped  bee, 
Whyles  Guyon  standing  by  their  uncouth  strife  does  see, 

XXI.  Him  all  that  while  Occasion  did  provoke 
Against  Pyrochles,  and  new  matter  fram'd 
Upon  the  old,  him  stirring  to  bee  wroke 
Of  his  late  wronges,  in  which  she  oft  him  blam'd 
For  suffering  such  abuse  as  knighthood  sham'd, 
And  him  dishabled  quyte.     But  he  was  wise, 

224  The  Faerie  Queene 

Ne  would  with  vaine  occasions  be  mflam'd ; 
Yet  others  she  more  urgent  did  devise ; 
Yet  nothing  could  him  to  impatience  entise* 

xxii.  Their  fell  contention  still  increased  more, 
And  more  thereby  increased  Furors  might, 
That  he  his  foe  has  hurt  and  wounded  sore, 
And  him  in  blood  and  durt  deformed  quight. 
His  mother  eke,  more  to  augment  his  spight, 
Now  brought  to  him  a  flaming  fyer  brond, 
Which  she  in  Stygian  lake,  ay  burning  bright, 
Had  kindled:  that  she  gave  into  his  hond, 
That  armd  with  fire  more  hardly  he  mote  him  withstond 

xxiii.  Tho  gan  that  villein  wex  so  flers  and  strong, 
That  nothing  might  sustaine  his  furious  forse. 
He  cast  him  downe  to  ground,  and  all  along 
Drew  him  through  durt  and  myre  without  remorse, 
And  fowly  battered  his  comely  corse, 
That  Guyon  much  disdeigned  so  loathly  sight. 
At  last  he  was  compeld  to  cry  perforse, 
"  Help,  0  Sir  Guyon !  helpe,  most  noble  knight, 
To  ridd  a  wretched  man  from  handes  of  hellish  wight !  " 

xxiv.  The  knight  was  greatly  moved  at  his  playnt, 
And  gan  him  dight  to  succour  his  distresse, 
Till  that  the  Palmer,  by  his  grave  restraynt, 
Him  stayd  from  yielding  pitifull  redresse, 
And  said;  "  Deare  sonne,  thy  causelesse  ruth  represse. 
Ne  let  thy  stout  hart  melt  in  pitty  vayne : 
He  that  his  sorrow  sought  through  wilfulnesse, 
And  his  foe  fettred  would  release  agayne, 
Deserves  to  taste  his  follies  fruit,  repented  payne." 

xxv.  Guyon  obayd :  So  him  away  he  drew 

From  needlesse  trouble  of  renewing  fight 
Already  fought,  his  voyage  to  poursew. 
But  rash  Pyrochles  varlett,  Atin  hight, 
When  late  he  saw  his  Lord  in  heavie  plight 
Under  Sir  Guyons  puissaunt  stroke  to  fall, 
Him  deeming  dead,  as  then  he  seemd  in  sight, 
Fledd  fast  away  to  tell  his  funerall 
Unto  his  brother,  whom  Cymochles  men  did  call. 

Book  II — Canto  V  225 

xxvi.  He  was  a  man  of  rare  redoubted  might, 

Famous  throughout  the  world  for  warlike  prayse, 
And  glorious  spoiles,  purchast  in  perilous  fight: 
Full  many  doughtie  knightes  he  in  his  dayes 
Had  doen  to  death,  subdewde  in  equall  frayes 
Whose  carkases,  for  terrour  of  his  name, 
Of  fowles  and  beastes  he  made  the  piteous  prayes, 
And  hong  their  conquered  armes,  for  more  defame, 
On  gallow  trees,  in  honour  of  his  dearest  Dame. 

xxvii.  His  dearest  Dame  is  that  Enchaunteresse, 
The  vyle  Acrasia,  that  with  vaine  delightes, 
And  ydle  pleasures  in  her  Bowre  of  Blisse, 
Does  charme  her  lovers,  and  the  feeble  sprightes 
Can  call  out  of  the  bodies  of  fraile  wightes; 
Whom  then  she  does  transforme  to  monstrous  hewes, 
And  horribly  misshapes  with  ugly  sightes, 
Captiv'd  eternally  in  yron  mewes 
And  darksom  dens,  where  Titan  his  face  never  shewes. 

xxviii.  There  Atin  fownd  Cymochles  sojourning, 
To  serve  his  Lemans  love :  for  he  by  kynd 
Was  given  all  to  lust  and  loose  living, 
When  ever  his  fiers  handes  he  free  mote  fynd: 
And  now  he  has  pourd  out  his  ydle  mynd 
In  daintie  delices,  and  lavish  joyes, 
Having  his  warlike  weapons  cast  behynd, 
And  flowes  in  pleasures  and  vaine  pleasing  toyes, 
Mingled  emongst  loose  Ladies  and  lascivious  boyes. 

xxix.  And  over  him  art,  stryving  to  compayre 
With  nature,  did  an  Arber  greene  dispred, 
Framed  of  wanton  Yvie,  flouring  fayre, 
Through  which  the  fragrant  Eglantine  did  spred 
His  prickling  armes,  entrayld  with  roses  red, 
Which  daintie  odours  round  about  them  threw: 
And  all  within  with  flowres  was  garnished, 
That,  when  myld  Zephyrus  emongst  them  blew, 
Did  breath  out  bounteous  smels,  and  painted  colors  shew. 

xxx.  And  fast  beside  there  trickled  softly  downe 

A  gentle  streame,  whose  murmuring  wave  did  play 
Emongst  the  pumy  stones,  and  made  a  sowne, 

226  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  lull  him  soft  asleepe  that  by  it  lay: 

The  wearie  Traveller,  wandring  that  way, 

Therein  did  often  quench  his  thristy  heat, 

And  then  by  it  his  wearie  limbes  display, 

Whiles  creeping  slomber  made  him  to  forget 

His  former  payne,  and  wypt  away  his  toilsom  sweat. 

xxxi.  And  on  the  other  syde  a  pleasaunt  grove 
Was  shott  up  high,  full  of  the  stately  tree 
That  dedicated  is  t'  Olympick  Jove, 
And  to  his  sonne  Alcides,  whenas  hee 
In  Nemus  gayned  goodly  victoree : 
Therein  the  mery  birdes  of  every  sorte 
Chaunted  alowd  their  chearefull  harmonee, 
And  made  emongst  them  selves  a  sweete  consort, 
That  quickned  the  dull  spright  with  musicall  comfort. 

xxxii.  There  he  him  found  all  carelessly  displaid, 
In  secrete  shadow  from  the  sunny  ray, 
On  a  sweet  bed  of  lillies  softly  laid, 
Amidst  a  flock  of  Damzelles  fresh  and  gay, 
That  rownd  about  him  dissolute  did  play 
Their  wanton  follies  and  light  meriments : 
Every  of  which  did  loosely  disaray 
Her  upper  partes  of  meet  habiliments, 
And  shewd  them  naked,  deckt  with  many  ornaments. 

xxxiii.  And  every  of  them  strove  with  most  delights 
Him  to  aggrate,  and  greatest  pleasures  shew: 
Some  framd  faire  lookes,  glancing  like  evening  lights; 
Others  sweet  wordes,  dropping  like  honny  dew; 
Some  bathed  kisses,  and  did  soft  embrew 
The  sugred  licour  through  his  melting  lips: 
One  boastes  her  beau  tie,  and  does  yield  to  vew 
Her  dainty  limbes  above  her  tender  hips; 
Another  her  out  boastes,  and  all  for  tryall  strips. 

xxxiv.  He,  like  an  Adder  lurking  in  the  weedes, 

His  wandring  thought  in  deepe  desire  does  steepe, 
And  his  frayle  eye  with  spoyle  of  beauty  feedes : 
Sometimes  he  falsely  faines  himselfe  to  sleepe, 
Whiles  through  their  lids  his  wanton  eies  do  peepe 
To  steale  a  snatch  of  amorous  conceipt, 

Book  II — Canto  V  227 

Whereby  close  fire  into  his  heart  does  creepe: 

So  he  them  deceives,  deceivd  in  his  deceipt, 

Made  dronke  with  drugs  of  deare  voluptuous  receipt. 

xxxv.  Atin,  arriving  there,  when  him  he  spyde 

Thus  in  still  waves  of  deepe  delight  to  wade 
Fiercely  approaching  to  him  lowdly  cryde, 
"  Cymochles ;  oh !  no,  but  Cymochles  shade, 
In  which  that  manly  person  late  did  fade. 
What  is  become  of  great  Aerates  sonne? 
Or  where  hath  he  hong  up  his  mortall  blade, 
That  hath  so  many  haughty  conquests  wonne? 
Is  all  his  force  forlorne,  and  all  his  glory  donne  ? 

xxx vi.  Then,  pricking  him  with  his  sharp-pointed  dart, 

He  saide;  "Up,  up!  thou  womanish  weake  knight, 
That  here  in  Ladies  lap  entombed  art, 
Unmindfull  of  thy  praise  and  prowest  might, 
And  weetlesse  eke  of  lately  wrought  despight, 
Whiles  sad  Pyrochles  lies  on  sencelesse  ground, 
And  groneth  out  his  utmost  grudging  spright 
Through  many  a  stroke  and  many  a  streaming  wound, 
Calling  thy  helpe  in  vaine  that  here  in  joyes  art  dround." 

xxxvii.  Suddeinly  out  of  his  delightfull  dreame 

The  man  awoke,  and  would  have  questiond  more; 

But  he  would  not  endure  that  wofull  theame 

For  to  dilate  at  large,  but  urged  sore, 

With  percing  wordes  and  pittifull  implore, 

Him  hasty  to  arise.     As  one  affright 

WTith  hellish  feends,  or  Furies  made  uprore, 

He  then  uprose,  inflamd  with  fell  despight, 

And  called  for  his  armes,  for  he  would  algates  fight: 

xxxviii.  They  bene  ybrought;  he  quickly  does  him  dight, 
And  lightly  mounted  passeth  on  his  way ; 
Ne  Ladies  loves,  ne  sweete  entreaties,  might 
Appease  his  heat,  or  hastie  passage  stay ; 
For  he  has  vowd  to  beene  avengd  that  day 
(That  day  it  selfe  him  seemed  all  too  long) 
On  him,  that  did  Pyrochles  deare  dismay: 
So  proudly  pricketh  on  his  courser  strong, 
And  Atin  ay  him  pricks  with  spurs  of  shame  and  wrong. 

228  The  Faerie  Queene 


Guyon  is  of  immodest  Merth 
Led  into  loose  desyre ; 
Fights  with  Cymochles,  whiles  his  bro- 
ther burns  in  furious  fyre. 

I.  A  harder  lesson  to  learne  Continence 
In  joyous  pleasure  then  in  grievous  paine; 
For  sweetnesse  doth  allure  the  weaker  sence 
So  strongly,  that  uneathes  it  can  refraine 
From  that  which  feeble  nature  covets  faine : 
But  griefe  and  wrath,  that  be  her  enemies 
And  foes  of  life,  she  better  can  abstainer 
Yet  vertue  vauntes  in  both  her  victories, 
And  Guyon  in  them  all  shewes  goodly  maysteries. 

II.  Whom  bold  Cymochles  traveiling  to  finde, 
With  cruell  purpose  bent  to  wreake  on  him 
The  wrath  which  Atin  kindled  in  his  mind, 
Came  to  a  river,  by  whose  utmost  brim 
Wayting  to  passe,  he  saw  whereas  did  swim 
Along  the  shore,  as  swift  as  glaunce  of  eye, 
A  litle  Gondelay,  bedecked  trim 
With  bough es  and  arbours  woven  cunningly , 
That  like  a  litle  forrest  seemed  outwardly. 

in.  And  therein  sate  a  Lady  fresh  and  fayre, 
Making  sweet  solace  to  herselfe  alone  : 
Sometimes  she  song  as  lowd  as  larke  in  ayre, 
Sometimes  she  laught,  as  merry  as  Pope  Jone; 
Yet  was  there  not  with  her  else  any  one, 
That  to  her  might  move  cause  of  meriment: 
Matter  of  merth  enough,  though  there  were  none, 
She  could  devise;  and  thousand  waies  invent 
To  feede  her  foolish  humour  and  vaine  jolliment. 

IV.  Which  when  far  off  Cymochles  heard  and  saw, 
He  lowdly  cald  to  such  as  were  abord 
The  little  barke  unto  the  shore  to  draw, 

Book  II— Canto  VI 


And  him  to  ferry  over  that  deepe  ford. 

The  merry  mariner  unto  his  word 

Soone  hearkned,  and  her  painted  bote  streightway 

Turnd  to  the  shore,  where  that  same  warlike  Lord 

She  in  receiv'd;  but  Atin  by  no  way 

She  would  admit,  albe  the  knight  her  much  did  pray. 

v.  Eftsoones  her  shallow  ship  away  did  slide, 
More  swift  then  swallow  sheres  the  liquid  skye, 
Withouten  oare  or  Pilot  it  to  guide, 
Or  winged  canvas  with  the  wind  to  fly  : 
Onely  she  turnd  a  pin,  and  by  and  by 
It  cut  away  upon  the  yielding  wave, 
Ne  cared  she  her  course  for  to  apply; 
For  it  was  taught  the  way  which  she  would  have, 
And  both  from  rocks  and  flats  it  selfe  could  wisely  save. 

vi.  And  all  the  way  the  wanton  Damsell  found 
New  merth  her  passenger  to  entertaine ; 
For  she  in  pleasaunt  purpose  did  abound, 
And  greatly  joyed  merry  tales  to  faine, 
Of  which  a  store-house  did  with  her  remaine: 
Yet  seemed,  nothing  well  they  her  became; 
For  all  her  wordes  she  drownd  with  laughter  vaine, 
And  wanted  grace  in  utt'ring  of  the  same, 
That  turnd  all  her  pleasaunce  to  a  scoffing  game.  qU^ 

vii.  And  other  whiles  vaine  toyes  she  would  devize, 
As  her  fantasticke  wit  did  most  delight  : 
Sometimes  her  head  she  fondly  would  aguize 
With  gaudy  girlonds,  or  fresh  flowrets  dight 
About  her  necke,  or  rings  of  rushes  plight: 
Sometimes,  to  do  him  laugh,  she  would  assay 
To  laugh  at  shaking  of  the  leaves  light 
Or  to  behold  the  water  worke  and  play 
About  her  little  frigot,  therein  making  way. 

viii.  Her  light  behaviour  and  loose  dalliaunce 

Gave  wondrous  great  contentment  to  the  knight, 
That  of  his  way  he  had  no  sovenaunce, 
Nor  care  of  vow'd  revenge  and  cruell  fight, 
But  to  weake  wench  did  yield  his  martiall  might: 
So  easie  was  to  quench  his  flamed  minde 

2?o  The  Faerie  Queene 

With  one  sweete  drop  of  sensuall  delight. 

So  easie  is  t'  appease  the  stormy  winde 

Of  malice  in  the  calme  of  pleasaunt  womankind. 

IX.  Diverse  discourses  in  their  way  they  spent; 
Mongst  which  Cymochles  of  her  questioned 
Both  what  she  was,  and  what  that  usage  ment, 
Which  in  her  cott  she  daily  practized  ? 
"  Vaine  man/'  (saide  she)  "  that  wouldest  be  reckoned 
A  straunger  in  thy  home,  and  ignoraunt 
Of  Phsedria,  (for  so  my  name  is  red) 
Of  Phaedria,  thine  owne  fellow  servaunt; 
For  thou  to  serve  Acrasia  thy  selfe  doest  vaunt, 

X.  "  In  this  wide  Inland  sea,  that  hight  by  name 
The  Idle  lake,  my  wandring  ship  I  row, 
That  knowes  her  port,  and  thither  sayles  by  ayme, 
Ne  care,  ne  feare  I  how  the  wind  do  blow, 
Or  whether  swift  I  wend,  or  whether  slow: 
Both  slow  and  swift  alike  do  serve  my  tourne; 
Ne  swelling  Neptune  ne  lowd  thundring  Jove 
Can  chaunge  my  cheare,  or  make  me  ever  mourne : 
My  little  boat  can  safely  passe  this  perilous  bourne. " 

xi.  Whiles  thus  she  talked,  and  whiles  thus  she  toyd, 
They  were  far  past  the  passage  which  he  spake, 
And  come  unto  an  Island  waste  and  voyd, 
That  rioted  in  the  midst  of  that  great  lake; 
There  her  small  Gondelay  her  port  did  make, 
And  that  gay  payre,  issewing  on  the  shore, 
Disburdned  her.     Their  way  they  forward  take 
Into  the  land  that  lay  them  faire  before, 
Whose  pleasaunce  she  him  shewd,  and  plentifull great  store. 

xii.  It  was  a  chosen  plott  of  fertile  land, 

Emongst  wide  waves  sett,  like  a  litle  nest, 

As  if  it  had  by  Natures  cunning  hand 

Bene  choycely  picked  out  from  all  the  rest, 

And  laid  forth  for  ensample  of  the  best: 

No  daintie  flowre  or  herbe  that  growes  on  grownd, 

No  arborett  with  painted  blossomes  drest 

And  smelling  sweete,  but  there  it  might  be  fownd 

To  bud  out  faire,  and  thro  we  her  sweete  smels  al  arownd. 

Book  II — Canto  VI  231 

xiii.  No  tree  whose  braunches  did  not  bravely  spring; 
No  braunch  whereon  a  fine  bird  did  not  sitt; 
No  bird  but  did  her  shrill  notes  sweetely  sing;- 
No  song  but  did  containe  a  lovely  ditt. 
Trees,  braunches,  birds,  and  songs,  were  framed  fitt 
For  to  allure  fraile  mind  to  carelesse  ease : 
Carelesse  the  man  soone  woxe,  and  his  weake  witt    \  1 
Was  overcome  of  thing  that  did  him  please;        ^  *  ^v<°^ 
So  pleased  did  his  wrathfull  purpose  faire  appease. 

xiv.  Thus  when  shee  had  his  eyes  and  sences  fed 

With  false  delights,  and  hid  with  pleasures  vayn, 

Into  a  shady  dale  she  soft  him  led, 

And  lay d  him  downe  upon  a  grassy  playn ; 

And  her  sweete  selfe  without  dread  or  disdayn 

She  sett  beside,  laying  his  head  disarmd 

In  her  loose  lap,  it  softly  to  sustayn, 

Where  soone  he  slumbred  fearing  not  be  harmd : 

The  whiles  with  a  love  lay  she  thus  him  sweetly  charmd. 

xv.  "  Behold,  0  man!  that  toilesome  paines  doest  take,  dan*^)t 
The  flowrs,  the  fields,  and  all  that  pleasaunt  growes,     J'^*^ 
C^ r  '* '  How  they  them  selves  doe  thine  ensample  make, 

Whiles  nothing  envious  nature  them  forth  throwes  i    ^jV^u^1 

Out  of  her  fruitfull  lap ;  how  no  man  knowes, 

They  spring,  they  bud,  they  blossome  fresh  and  faire,  >f*»N  '« 

And  decke  the  world  with  their  rich  pompous  showes ; 

Yet  no  man  for  them  taketh  paines  or  care,  '  *   yiW 

Yet  no  man  to  them  can  his  carefull  paines  compare. 

xvi.  "  The  lilly,  Lady  of  the  flowring  field,  » (  '  M 

The  flowre-deluce,  her  lovely  Paramoure,  -f/Ajy     ***>' 

Bid  thee  to  them  thy  fruitlesse  labors  yield, 
And  soone  leave  off  this  toylsome  weary  stoure: 
Loe,  loe !  how  brave  she  decks  her  bounteous  boure, 
With  silkin  curtens  and  gold  coverletts, 
Therein  to  shrowd  her  sumptuous  Belamoure; 
Yet  nether  spinnes  nor  cardes,  ne  cares  nor  fretts, 
But  to  her  mother  Nature  all  her  care  she  letts. 

xvii.  "  Why  then  doest  thou,  0  man!  that  of  them  all 
Art  Lord,  and  eke  of  nature  Soveraine, 
Wilfully  make  thyselfe  a  wretched  thrall, 

Pe  q       -  ' 

232  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  waste  thy  joyous  howres  in  needlesse  paine, 
Seeking  for  daunger  and  adventures  vaine  ? 
What  Bootes  it  al  to  have,  and  nothing  use? 

a  Who  shall  him  rew  that  swimming  in  the  maine 

Will  die  for  thrist,  and  water  doth  refuse  ? 
Refuse  suchfruitlesse  toile,  and  present  pleasures  chuse." 

xviii.  By  this  she  had  him  lulled  fast  asleepe, 

That  of  no  worldly  thing  he  care  did  take : 

Then  she  with  liquors  strong  his  eies  did  steepe, 

That  nothing  should  him  hastily  awake. 

So  she  him  lefte,  and  did  her  selfe  betake 

Unto  her  boat  again,  with  which  she  clefte 

The  slothfull  wave  of  that  great  griesy  lake: 

Soone  shee  that  Island  far  behind  her  lefte, 

And  now  is  come  to  that  same  place  where  first  she  wefte* 

xix.  By  this  time  was  the  worthy  Guyon  brought 
Unto  the  other  side  of  that  wide  strond 
Where  she  was  rowing,  and  for  passage  sought. 
Him  needed  not  long  call;  shee  soone  to  hond 
Her  ferry  brought,  where  him  she  byding  fond 
With  his  sad  guide :  him  selfe  she  tooke  aboord, 
But  the  Blacke  Palmer  suflred  still  to  stond, 
Ne  would  for  price  or  prayers  once  affoord 
To  ferry  that  old  man  over  the  perlous  foord. 

xx.  Guyon  was  loath  to  leave  his  guide  behind, 
Yet  being  entred  might  not  backe  retyre ; 
For  the  flitt  barke,  obaying  to  her  mind, 
Forth  launched  quickly  as  she  did  desire, 
Ne  gave  him  leave  to  bid  that  aged  sire 
Adieu ;  but  nimbly  ran  her  wonted  course 
Through  the  dull  billowes  thicke  as  troubled  mire, 
Whom  nether  wind  out  of  their  seat  could  forse 
Nor  timely  tides  did  drive  out  of  their  sluggish  sourse. 

xxi.  And  by  the  way,  as  was  her  wonted  guize, 
Her  mery  fitt  shee  freshly  gan  to  reare, 
And  did  of  joy  and  jollity  devize, 
Her  selfe  to  cherish,  and  her  guest  to  cheare. 
The  knight  was  courteous,  and  did  not  forbeare 
Her  honest  merth  and  pleasaunce  to  partake ; 


Book  II — Canto  VI  233 

But  when  he  saw  her  toy,  and  gibe,  and  geare, 

And  passe  the  bonds  of  modest  merimake, 

Her  dalliaunce  he  despis'd,  and  follies  did  forsake. 

xxii.  Yet  she  still  followed  her  former  style, 

And  said  and  did  all  that  mote  him  delight, 

Till  they  arrived  in  that  pleasaunt  He, 

Where  sleeping  late  she  lefte  her  other  knight. 

But  whenas  Guyon  of  that  land  had  sight, 

He  wist  him  selfe  amisse,  and  angry  said; 

"  Ah,  Dame !  perdy  ye  have  not  doen  me  right, 

Thus  to  mislead  mee,  whiles  I  you  obaid : 

Me  litle  needed  from  my  right  way  to  have  straid." 

xxiii.  "  Faire  Sir/'  (quoth  she)  "  be  not  displeased  at  all. 
Who  fares  on  sea  may  not  commaund  his  way, 
Ne  wind  and  weather  at  his  pleasure  call: 
The  sea  is  wide,  and  easy  for  to  stray; 
The  wind  unstable,  and  doth  never  stay* 
But  here  a  while  ye  may  in  safety  rest, 
Till  season  serve  new  passage  to  assay: 
Better  safe  port  then  be  in  seas  distrest." 
Therewith  she  laught,  and  did  her  earnest  end  in  jest. 

xxiv.  But  he,  halfe  discontent,  mote  nathelesse 

Himself e  appease,  and  issewd  forth  on  shore; 

The  joyes  whereof  and  happy  fruitfulnesse, 

Such  as  he  saw  she  gan  him  lay  before, 

And  all,  though  pleasaunt,  yet  she  made  much  more: 

The  fields  did  laugh,  the  flowres  did  freshly  spring, 

The  trees  did  bud,  and  early  blossomes  bore; 

And  all  the  quire  of  birds  did  sweetly  sing, 

And  told  that  gardins  pleasures  in  their  caroling, 

xxv.  And  she,  more  sweete  then  any  bird  on  bough, 
Would  oftentimes  emongst  them  beare  a  part, 
And  strive  to  passe  (as  she  could  well  enough) 
Their  native  musicke  by  her  skilful  art: 
So  did  she  all  that  might  his  constant  hart 
Withdraw  from  thought  of  warlike  enterprize, 
And  drowne  in  dissolute  delights  apart, 
Where  noise  of  armes,  or  vew  of  martiall  guize, 
Might  not  revive  desire  of  knightly  exercize. 

234  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  But  he  was  wise,  and  wary  of  her  will, 
And  ever  held  his  hand  upon  his  hart; 
Yet  would  not  seeme  so  rude,  and  thewed  ill, 
As  to  despise  so  curteous  seeming  part 
That  gentle  Lady  did  to  him  impart: 
But,  fairly  tempring,  fond  desire  subdewd, 
And  ever  her  desired  to  depart. 
She  list  not  heare,  but  her  disports  poursewd, 
And  ever  bad  him  stay  till  time  the  tide  renewd. 

xxvii.  And  now  by  this  Cymochles  howre  was  spent, 
That  he  awoke  out  of  his  ydle  dreme ; 
And,  shaking  off  his  drowsy  dreriment, 
Gan  him  avize,  howe  ill  did  him  beseme 
In  slouthfull  sleepe  his  molten  hart  to  steme, 
And  quench  the  brond  of  his  conceived  yre : 
Tho  up  he  started,  stird  with  shame  extreme, 
Ne  staied  for  his  Damsell  to  inquire, 
But  marched  to  the  Strond  there  passage  to  require. 

xxviii.  And  in  the  way  he  with  Sir  Guy  on  mett, 
Accompanyde  with  Phsedria  the  f aire : 
Eftsoones  he  gan  to  rage,  and  inly  frett, 
Crying;  "  Let  be  that  Lady  debonaire, 
Thou  recreaunt  knight,  and  soone  thyselfe  prepaire 
To  batteile,  if  thou  meane  her  love  to  gayn. 
Loe,  loe !  already  how  the  fowles  in  aire 
Doe  flocke,  awaiting  shortly  to  obtayn 
Thy  carcas  for  their  pray,  the  guerdon  of  thy  payn." 

xxix.  And  therewithal!  he  flersly  at  him  flew, 

And  with  importune  outrage  him  assayld; 
Who,  soone  prepard  to  field,  his  sword  forth  drew, 
And  him  with  equall  valew  countervayld : 
Their  mightie  strokes  their  haberjeons  dismayld, 
And  naked  made  each  others  manly  spalles ; 
The  mortall  Steele  despiteously  entayld 
Deepe  in  their  flesh,  quite  through  the  yron  walles, 
That  a  large  purple  streame  adowne  their  giambeux 

xxx.  Cymochles,  that  had  never  mett  before 
So  puissant  foe,  with  envious  despight 
His  prowd  presumed  force  increased  more, 

Book  II — Canto  VI  235 

Disdeigning  to  bee  held  so  long  in  fight. 

Sir  Guyon,  grudging  not  so  much  his  might 

As  those  unknightly  raylinges  which  he  spoke, 

With  wrathfull  fire  his  corage  kindled  bright, 

Thereof  devising  shortly  to  be  wroke, 

And  doubling  all  his  powers  redoubled  every  stroke. 

xxxi.  Both  of  them  high  attonce  their  handes  enhaunst, 
And  both  attonce  their  huge  blowes  down  did  sway. 
Cymochles  sword  on  Guyons  shield  yglaunst, 
And  thereof  nigh  one  quarter  sheard  away; 
But  Guyons  angry  blade  so  fiers  did  play 
On  th'  others  helmett,  which  as  Titan  shone, 
That  quite  it  clove  his  plumed  crest  in  tway, 
And  bared  all  his  head  unto  the  bone; 
Wherewith  astonisht,  still  he  stood  as  sencelesse  stone. 

xxxii.  Still  as  he  stood,  fayre  Phsedria,  that  beheld 

That  deadly  daunger,  soone  atweene  them  ran; 

And  at  their  feet  her  selfe  most  humbly  feld, 

Crying  with  pitteous  voyce,  and  count'nance  wan, 

"  Ah,  well  away !  most  noble  Lords,  how  can 

Your  cruell  eyes  endure  so  pitteous  sight, 

To  shed  your  lives  on  ground  ?     Wo  worth  the  man, 

That  first  did  teach  the  cursed  Steele  to  bight 

In  his  owne  flesh,  and  make  way  to  the  living  spright ! 

xxxiii.  "  If  ever  love  of  Lady  did  empierce 

Your  yron  brestes,  or  pittie  could  find  place, 
Withhold  your  bloody  handes  from  battaill  fierce ; 
And,  sith  for  me  ye  fight,  to  me  this  grace 
Both  yield,  to  stay  your  deadly  stryfe  a  space." 
They  stayd  a  while,  and  forth  she  gan  proceede: 
"  Most  wretched  woman  and  of  wicked  race, 
That  am  the  authour  of  this  hainous  deed, 
And  cause  of  death  betweene  two  doughtie  knights  di, 
breed ! 

xxxi  v.  "  But,  if  for  me  ye  fight,  or  me  will  serve, 

Not  this  rude  kynd  of  battaill,  nor  these  armes 
Are  meet,  the  which  doe  men  in  bale  to  sterve, 
And  doolefull  sorrow  heape  with  deadly  harmes : 
Such  cruell  game  my  scarmoges  disarmes* 
Another  warre,  and  other  weapons,  I 

236  The  Faerie  Queene 

Doe  love,  where  love  does  give  his  sweet  Alarmes 
Without  bloodshed,  and  where  the  enimy 
Does  yield  unto  his  foe  a  pleasaunt  victory  < 

xxxv.  "  Debatefull  strife,  and  cruell  enmity, 

The  famous  name  of  knighthood  fowly  shend; 

But  lovely  peace,  and  gentle  amity, 

And  in  Amours  the  passing  howres  to  spend, 

The  mightie  martiall  handes  doe  most  commend: 

Of  love  they  ever  greater  glory  bore 

Then  of  their  armes ;  Mars  is  Cupidoes  frend, 

And  is  for  Venus  loves  renowmed  more 

Then  all  his  wars  and  spoiles,  the  which  he  did  of  yore." 

xxxvi.  Therewith  she  sweetly  smyld.     They,  though  full  bent 
To  prove  extremities  of  bloody  fight, 
Yet  at  her  speach  their  rages  gan  relent, 
And  calme  the  sea  of  their  tempestuous  spight. 
Such  powre  have  pleasing  wordes :  such  is  the  might 
Of  courteous  clemency  in  gentle  hart. 
Now  after  all  was  ceast,  the  Faery  knight 
Besought  that  Damzell  suffer  him  depart, 
And  yield  him  ready  passage  to  that  other  part. 

xxxvii.  She  no  lesse  glad  then  he  desirous  was 
Of  his  departure  thence;  for  of  her  joy 
And  vaine  delight  she  saw  he  light  did  pas, 
A  foe  of  folly  and  immodest  toy, 
Still  solemne  sad,  or  still  disdainfull  coy; 
Delighting  all  in  armes  and  cruell  warre, 
That  her  sweet  peace  and  pleasures  did  annoy, 
Troubled  with  terrour  and  unquiet  jarre, 
That  she  well  pleased  was  thence  to  amove  him  farre 

xxxviii.  Tho  him  she  brought  abord,  and  her  swift  bote 
Forthwith  directed  to  that  further  strand ; 
The  which  on  the  dull  waves  did  lightly  flote, 
And  soone  arrived  on  the  shallow  sand, 
Where  gladsome  Guyon  salied  forth  to  land, 
And  to  that  Damsell  thankes  gave  for  reward. 
Upon  that  shore  he  spyed  Atin  stand, 
There  by  his  maister  left,  when  late  he  far'd 
In  Phsedrias  flitt  barck  over  that  perlous  shard. 

Book  II — Canto  VI  237 

xxxix.  Well  could  he  him  remember,  sith  of  late 

He  with  Pyrochles  sharp  debatement  made: 
Streight  gan  he  him  revyle,  and  bitter  rate, 
As  Shepheardes  curre,  that  in  darke  eveninges  shade 
Hath  tracted  forth  some  salvage  beastes  trade : 
11  Vile  Miscreaunt,"  (said  he)  "  whither  dost  thou  flye 
The  shame  and  death,  which  will  thee  soone  invade? 
What  coward  hand  shall  doe  thee  next  to  dye, 
That  art  thus  f owly  fledd  from  famous  enimy  ?  " 

XL.  With  that  he  stifly  shooke  his  steelhead  dart: 
But  sober  Guyon,  hearing  him  so  rayle, 
Though  somewhat  moved  in  his  mightie  hart, 
Yet  with  strong  reason  maistred  passion  fraile, 
And  passed  fayrely  forth.     He,  turning  taile, 
Back  to  the  strond  retyrd,  and  there  still  stayd, 
Awaiting  passage  which  him  late  did  faile; 
The  whiles  Cymochles  with  that  wanton  mayd 
The  hasty  heat  of  his  avowd  revenge  delayd. 

xli.  Whylest  there  the  varlet  stood,  he  saw  from  farre 
An  armed  knight  that  towardes  him  fast  ran; 
He  ran  on  foot,  as  if  in  lucklesse  warre 
His  forlorne  steed  from  him  the  victour  wan : 
He  seemed  breathlesse,  hartlesse,  faint,  and  wan; 
And  all  his  armour  sprinckled  was  with  blood, 
And  soyld  with  durtie  gore,  that  no  man  can 
Discerne  the  hew  thereof.     He  never  stood, 
But  bent  his  hastie  course  towardes  the  ydle  flood. 

xlii.  The  varlett  saw,  when  to  the  flood  he  came, 
How  without  stop  or  stay  he  fiersly  lept, 
And  deepe  him  selfe  beducked  in  the  same, 
That  in  the  lake  his  loftie  crest  was  stept, 
Ne  of  his  safetie  seemed  care  he  kept; 
But  with  his  raging  armes  he  rudely  flasht 
The  waves  about,  and  all  his  armour  swept, 
That  all  the  blood  and  filth  away  was  washt; 
Yet  still  he  bet  the  water,  and  the  billowes  dasht. 

xliii.  Atin  drew  nigh  to  weet  what  it  mote  bee, 

For  much  he  wondred  at  that  uncouth  sight: 
Whom  should  he  but  his  owne  deare  Lord  there  see, 

238  The  Faerie  Queene 

His  owne  deare  Lord  Pyrochles  in  sad  plight, 
Ready  to  drowne  him  selfe  for  fell  despight: 
"  Harrow  now  out,  and  well  away !  "  he  cryde, 
"  What  dismall  day  hath  lent  this  cursed  light, 
To  see  my  Lord  so  deadly  damnifyde? 
Pyrochles,  0  Pyrochles !  what  is  thee  betyde  ?  " 

xliv.  "  I  burne,  I  burne,  I  burne !  "  then  lowd  he  cryde,  . 
"  0!  how  I  burne  with  implacable  fyre; 
Yet  nought  can  quench  mine  inly  flaming  syde, 
Nor  sea  of  licour  cold,  nor  lake  of  myre : 
Nothing  but  death  can  doe  me  to  respyre." 
"  Ah!   be  it,"  (said  he)  "  from  Pyrochles  farre 
After  pursewing  death  once  to  requyre, 
Or  think,  that  ought  those  puissant  hands  may  marre : 
Death  is  for  wretches  borne  under  unhappy  starre." 

xlv.  "  Perdye,  then  is  it  fitt  for  me/'  (said  he) 

"  That  am,  I  weene,  most  wretched  man  alive; 
Burning  in  flames,  yet  no  flames  can  I  see, 
And  dying  dayly,  dayly  yet  revive. 
O  Atin !  helpe  to  me  last  death  to  give." 
The  varlet  at  his  plaint  was  grieved  so  sore, 
That  his  deepe  wounded  hart  in  two  did  rive; 
And,  his  owne  health  remembring  now  no  more, 
Did  follow  that  ensample  which  he  blam'd  afore. 

xlvi.  Into  the  lake  he  lept  his  Lord  to  ayd, 

(So  Love  the  dread  of  daunger  doth  despise) 

And  of  him  catching  hold  him  strongly  stayd 

From  drowning.     But  more  happy  he  then  wise, 

Of  that  seas  nature  did  him  not  avise : 

The  waves  thereof  so  slow  and  sluggish  were, 

Engrost  with  mud  which  did  them  fowle  agrise, 

That  every  weighty  thing  they  did  upbeare, 

Ne  ought  mote  ever  sinck  downe  to  the  bottom  there. 

xl vii.  Whiles  thus  they  strugled  in  that  ydle  wave, 

And  strove  in  vaine,  the  one  him  selfe  to  drowne, 
The  other  both  from  drowning  for  to  save, 
Lo !  to  that  shore  one  in  an  auncient  gowne, 
Whose  hoary  locks  great  gravitie  did  crowne, 
Holding  in  hand  a  goodly  arming  sword, 

Book  II— Canto  VI 


By  fortune  came,  ledd  with  the  troublous  sowne: 
Where  drenched  deepe  he  fownd  in  that  dull  ford 
The  carefull  servaunt  stryving  with  his  raging  Lord. 

xlviii.  Him  Atin  spying  knew  right  well  of  yore, 

And  lowdly  cald ;  "  Helpe,  helpe !  OArchimage! 
To  save  my  Lord  in  wretched  plight  forlore; 
Helpe  with  thy  hand,  or  with  thy  counsell  sage: 
Weake  handes,  but  counsell  is  most  strong  in  age." 
Him  when  the  old  man  saw,  he  wondred  sore 
To  see  Pyrochles  there  so  rudely  rage; 
Yet  sithens  helpe,  he  saw,  he  needed  more 
Then  pitty,  he  in  hast  approched  to  the  shore, 

xlix.  And  cald;  "  Pyrochles!  what  is  this  I  see? 
What  hellish  fury  hath  at  earst  thee  hent? 
Furious  ever  I  thee  knew  to  bee, 
Yet  never  in  this  straunge  astonishment." 
11  These  flames,  these  flames  "  (he  cryde)  "  doe  me 

"  Wha  flames/'  (quoth  he),  when  I  thee  present  see 
In  daunger  rather  to  be  drent  then  brent?  " 
"  Harrow !  the  flames  which  me  consume,"  (said  hee) 
"  Ne  can  be  quencht,  within  my  secret  bowelles  bee. 

L.  "  That  cursed  man,  that  cruel  feend  of  hell, 
Furor,  oh!  Furor  hath  me  thus  bedight: 
His  deadly  woundes  within  my  liver  swell, 
And  his  whott  fyre  burnes  in  mine  entralles  bright, 
Kindled  through  his  infernall  brond  of  spight, 
Sith  late  with  him  I  batteill  vaine  would  boste ; 
That  now,  I  weene,  Joves  dreaded  thunder  light 
Does  scorch  not  halfe  so  sore,  nor  damned  ghost » 
In  flaming  Phlegeton  does  not  so  felly  roste." 

Li.  Which  when  as  Archimago  heard,  his  griefe 
He  knew  right  well,  and  him  attonce  disarm'd; 
Then  searcht  his  secret  woundes,  and  made  a  priefe 
Of  every  place  that  was  with  bruzing  harmd, 
Or  with  the  hidden  fire  too  inly  warmd. 
Which  doen,  he  balmes  and  herbes  thereto  applyde, 
And  evermore  with  mightie  spels  them  charmd; 
That  in  short  space  he  has  them  qualifyde, 
And  him  restor'd  to  helth  that  would  have  algates  dyde. 

240  The  Faerie  Queene 


Guyon  findes  Mamon  in  a  delve 
Sunning  his  threasure  hore; 
Is  by  him  tempted,  and  led  downe 
To  see  his  secrete  store. 

t.  As  Pilot  well  expert  in  perilous  wave, 
That  to  a  stedfast  starre  his  course  hath  bent, 
When  foggy  mistes  or  cloudy  tempests  have 
The  faithful  light  of  that  faire  lampe  yblent, 
And  cover'd  heaven  with  hideous  dreriment, 
Upon  his  card  and  compas  firmes  his  eye, 
The  maysters  of  his  long  experiment, 
And  to  them  does  the  steddy  helme  apply, 
Bidding  his  winged  vessell  fairely  forward  fly : 

II.  So  Guyon  having  lost  his  trustie  guyde, 
Late  left  beyond  that  Ydle  lake,  proceedes 
Yet  on  his  way,  of  none  accompany de ; 
And  evermore  himselfe  with  comfort  feedes 
Of  his  own  vertues  and  praise-worthie  deedes* 
So,  long  he  yode,  yet  no  adventure  found, 
Which  fame  of  her  shrill  trompet  worthy  reedes ; 
For  still  he  traveild  through  wide  wastfull  ground, 
That  nought  but  desert  wildernesse  shewed  all  around. 

in.  At  last  he  came  unto  a  gloomy  glade, 

Cover'd  with  boughes  and  shrubs  from  heavens  light, 
WThereas  he  sitting  found  in  secret  shade 
An  uncouth,  salvage,  and  uncivile  wight, 
Of  griesly  hew  and  fowle  ill  favour'd  sight ; 
His  face  with  smoke  was  tand,  and  eies  were  bleard, 
His  head  and  beard  with  sout  were  ill  bedight, 
His  cole-blacke  hands  did  seeme  to  have  ben  seard 
In  smythes  fire-spitting  forge,  and  nayles  like  clawes 

rv.  His  yron  cote,  all  overgrowne  with  rust, 
Was  underneath  enveloped  with  gold ; 
Whose  glistring  glosse,  darkned  with  filthy  dust, 

Book  II— Canto  VII  241 

Well  yet  appeared  to  have  beene  of  old 
A  worke  of  rich  entayle  and  curious  mould, 
Woven  with  antickes  and  wyld  ymagery; 
And  in  his  lap  a  masse  of  coyne  he  told, 
And  turned  upside  downe,  to  feede  his  eye 
And  covetous  desire  with  his  huge  threasury. 

v.  And  round  about  him  lay  on  every  side 

Great  heapes  of  gold  that  never  could  be  spent; 

Of  which  some  were  rude  owre,  not  purifide 

Of  Mulcibers  devouring  element; 

Some  others  were  new  driven,  and  distent 

Into  great  Ingowes  and  to  wedges  square; 

Some  in  round  plates  withouten  moniment; 

But  most  were  stampt,  and  in  their  metal  bare 

The  antique  shapes  of  kinges  and  kesars  straunge  and  rare. 

vi.  Soone  as  he  Guyon  saw,  in  great  affright 
And  haste  he  rose  for  to  remove  aside 
Those  pretious  hils  from  straungers  envious  sight, 
And  downe  them  poured  through  an  hole  full  wide 
Into  the  hollow  earth,  them  there  to  hide. 
But  Guyon;  lightly  to  him  leaping,  stayd 
His  hand  that  trembled  as  one  terrify de; 
And  though  himselfe  were  at  the  sight  dismayd, 
Yet  him  perforce  restraynd,  and  to  him  doubtfull  sayd: 

vii.  "  What  art  thou,  man,  (if  man  at  all  thou  art) 
That  here  in  desert  hast  thine  habitaunce, 
And  these  rich  hils  of  welth  doest  hide  apart 
From  the  worldes  eye,  and  from  her  right  usaunce  ?  " 
Thereat,  with  staring  eyes  fixed  askaunce, 
In  great  disdaine  he  answerd:  "  Hardy  Elfe, 
That  darest  view  my  direfull  countenaunce, 
I  read  thee  rash  and  heedelesse  of  thy  selfe, 
To  trouble  my  still  seate,  and  heapes  of  pretious  pelfe. 

viii.  "  God  of  the  world  and  worldlings  I  me  call, 
Great  Mammon,  greatest  god  below  the  skye, 
That  of  my  plenty  poure  out  unto  all, 
And  unto  none  my  graces  do  envy e : 
Riches,  renowme,  and  principality, 
Honour,  estate,  and  all  this  worldes  good, 

242  The  Faerie  Queene 

For  which  men  swinck  and  sweat  incessantly, 

Fro  me  do  flow  into  an  ample  flood, 

And  in  the  hollow  earth  have  their  eternal  brood. 

ix.  "  Wherefore,  if  me  thou  deigne  to  serve  and  sew, 
At  thy  commaund  lo !  all  these  mountaines  bee : 
Or  if  to  thy  great  mind,  or  greedy  vew, 
All  these  may  not  sufhse,  there  shall  to  thee 
Ten  times  so  much  be  nombred  francke  and  free." 
"  Mammon,"  (said  he)  "  thy  godheads  vaunt  is  vaine, 
And  idle  offers  of  thy  golden  fee; 
To  them  that  covet  such  eye-glutting  gaine 
Proffer  thy  giftes,  and  fitter  servaunts  entertaine. 

X.  "  Me  ill  besits,  that  in  der-doing  armes 
And  honours  suit  my  vowed  daies  do  spend, 
Unto  thy  bounteous  baytes  and  pleasing  charmes, 
With  which  weake  men  thou  witchest,  to  attend ; 
Regard  of  worldly  mucke  doth  fowly  blend, 
And  low  abase  the  high  heroicke  spright, 
That  joyes  for  crownes  and  kingdomes  to  contend: 
Faire  shields,  gay  steedes,  bright  armes  be  my  delight; 
Those  be  the  riches  fit  for  an  advent'rous  knight." 

XI.  "  Vaine  glorious  Elfe,"  (saide  he)  "  doest  not  thou  weet, 
That  money  can  thy  wantes  at  will  supply  ? 
Sheilds,  steeds,  and  armes,  and  all  things  for  thee  meet, 
It  can  purvay  in  twinckling  of  an  eye; 
And  crownes  and  kingdomes  to  thee  multiply. 
Do  not  I  kings  create,  and  throw  the  crowne 
Sometimes  to  him  that  low  in  dust  doth  ly, 
And  him  that  raignd  into  his  rowme  thrust  downe, 
And  whom  I  lust  do  heape  with  glory  and  renowne  ?  " 

xii.  "  All  otherwise  "  (saide  he)  "  I  riches  read, 
And  deeme  them  roote  of  all  disquietnesse ; 
First  got  with  guile,  and  then  preserv'd  with  dread, 
And  after  spent  with  pride  and  lavishnesse, 
Leaving  behind  them  griefe  and  heavinesse: 
Infinite  mischiefes  of  them  doe  arize, 
Strife  and  debate,  bloodshed  and  bitternesse, 
Outrageous  wrong,  and  hellish  covetize, 
That  noble  heart  as  great  dishonour  doth  despize. 

Book  II— Canto  VII  243 

xiii.  "  Ne  thine  be  kingdomes,  ne  the  scepters  thine; 
But  realmes  and  rulers  thou  doest  both  confound, 
And  loyall  truth  to  treason  doest  incline: 
Witnesse  the  guiltlesse  blood  pourd  oft  on  ground, 
The  crowned  often  slaine,  the  slayer  cround ; 
The  sacred  Diademe  in  peeces  rent, 
And  purple  robe  gored  with  many  a  wound, 
Castles  surprizd,  great  cities  sackt  and  brent: 
So  mak'st  thou  kings,  and  gaynest  wrongfull  government. 

xiv.  "  Long  were  to  tell  the  troublous  stormes  that  tosse 
The  private  state,  and  make  the  life  unsweet: 
Who  swelling  sayles  in  Caspian  sea  doth  crosse, 
And  in  frayle  wood  on  Adrian  gulf  doth  fleet, 
Doth  not,  I  weene,  so  many  evils  meet." 
Then  Mammon  wexing  wroth;  "  And  why  then,"  sayd, 
"  Are  mortall  men  so  fond  and  undiscreet 
So  evill  thing  to  seeke  unto  their  ayd, 
And  having  not  complaine,  and  having  it  upbrayd  ?  " 

xv.  "  Indeede,"  (quoth  he)  "  through  fowle  intemperaunce, 
Frayle  men  are  oft  captiv'd  to  covetise  ; 
But  would  they  thinke  with  how  small  allowaunce 
Untroubled  Nature  doth  her  selfe  suffise, 
Such  superfluities  they  would  despise, 
Which  with  sad  cares  empeach  our  native  joyes. 
At  the  well-head  the  purest  streames  arise; 
But  mucky  filth  his  braunching  armes  annoyes, 
And  with  uncomely  weedes  the  gentle  wave  accloyes. 

xvi.  "  The  antique  world,  in  his  first  flowring  youth, 
Fownd  no  defect  in  his  Creators  grace; 
But  with  glad  thankes,  and  unreproved  truth, 
The  guifts  of  soveraine  bounty  did  embrace : 
Like  Angels  life  was  then  mens  happy  cace; 
But  later  ages  pride,  like  corn-fed  steed, 
Abusd  her  plenty  and  fat  swolne  encreace 
To  all  licentious  lust,  and  gan  exceed 
The  measure  of  her  meane  and  naturall  first  need. 

xvii.  "  Then  gan  a  cursed  hand  the  quiet  wombe 

Of  his  great  Grandmother  with  Steele  to  wound, 
And  the  hid  treasures  in  her  sacred  tombe 

244  The  Faerie  Queene 

With  Sacriledge  to  dig.     Therein  he  fownd 

Fountaines  of  gold  and  silver  to  abownd, 

Of  which  the  matter  of  his  huge  desire 

And  pompous  pride  ef tsoones  he  did  compownd ; 

Then  avarice  gan  through  his  veines  inspire 

His  greedy  flames,  and  kindled  life-devouring  fire." 

xviii.  "  Sonne,"  (said  he  then)  "  lett  be  thy  bitter  scorne, 
And  leave  the  rudenesse  of  that  antique  age 
To  them  that  liv'd  therein  in  state  forlorne : 
Thou,  that  doest  live  in  later  times,  must  wage 
Thy  workes  for  wealth,  and  life  for  gold  engage.; 
If  then  thee  list  my  offred  grace  to  use, 
Take  what  thou  please  of  all  this  surplusage ; 
If  thee  list  not,  leave  have  thou  to  refuse  : 
But  thing  refused  doe  not  afterward  accuse." 

xix.  "  Me  list  not  "  (said  the  Elfin  knight)  "  receave 
Thing  offred,  till  I  know  it  well  be  gott; 
Ne  wote  I  but  thou  didst  these  goods  bereave 
From  rightfull  owner  by  unrighteous  lott, 
Or  that  bloodguiltinesse  or  guile  them  blott." 
"  Perdy,"  (quoth  he)  "  yet  never  eie  did  vew, 
Ne  tong  did  tell,  ne  hand  these  handled  not; 
But  safe  I  have  them  kept  in  secret  mew 
From  hevens  sight,  and  powre  of  al  which  them  pours ew.: 

xx.  "  What  secret  place  "  (quoth  he)  "  can  safely  hold 
So  huge  a  masse,  and  hide  from  heavens  eie  ? 
Or  where  hast  thou  thy  wonne,  that  so  much  gold 
Thou  canst  preserve  from  wrong  and  robbery?  " 
"  Come  thou,"  (quoth  he)  "  and  see."     So  by  and  by 
Through  that  thick  covert  he  him  led,  and  fownd 
A  darkesome  way,  which  no  man  could  descry, 
That  deep  descended  through  the  hollow  grownd, 
And  was  with  dread  and  horror  compassed  arownd* 

xxi.  At  length  they  came  into  a  larger  space, 
That  stretcht  itselfe  into  an  ample  playne ; 
Through  which  a  beaten  broad  high  way  did  trace, 
That  streight  did  lead  to  Plutoes  griesly  rayne. 
By  that  wayes  side  there  sate  internall  Payne, 
And  fast  beside  him  sat  tumultuous  Strife : 

Book  II— Canto  VII 


The  one  in  hand  an  yron  whip  did  strayne, 

The  other  brandished  a  bloody  knife; 

And  both  did  gnash  their  teeth,  and  both  did  threten  life. 

xxii.  On  thother  side  in  one  consort  there  sate 
Cruell  Revenge,  and  rancorous  Despight, 
Disloyall  Treason,  and  hart-burning  Hate; 
But  gnawing  Gealousy,  out  of  their  sight 
Sitting  alone,  his  bitter  lips  did  bight; 
And  trembling  Feare  still  to  and  fro  did  fly, 
And  found  no  place  wher  safe  he  shroud  him  might: 
Lamenting  Sorrow  did  in  darknes  lye, 
And  shame  his  ugly  face  did  hide  from  living  eye, 

xxiii.  And  over  them  sad  horror  with  grim  hew 
Did  alwaies  sore,  beating  his  yron  wings ; 
And  after  him  Owles  and  Night-ravens  flew, 
The  hatefull  messengers  of  heavy  things, 
Of  death  and  dolor  telling  sad  tidings; 
Whiles  sad  Celeno,  sitting  on  a  clifte, 
A  song  of  bale  and  bitter  sorrow  sings, 
That  hart  of  flint  asonder  could  have  rifte ; 
Which  having  ended  after  him  she  flyeth  swifte.; 

xxiv.  All  these  before  the  gates  of  Pluto  lay, 

By  whom  they  passing  spake  unto  them  nought; 

But  th'  Elfin  knight  with  wonder  all  the  way 

Did  feed  his  eyes,  and  fild  his  inner  thought. 

At  last  him  to  a  litle  dore  he  brought, 

That  to  the  gate  of  Hell,  which  gaped  wide, 

Was  next  adjoyning,  ne  them  parted  ought: 

Betwixt  them  both  was  but  a  litle  stride, 

That  did  the  house  of  Richesse  from  hell-mouth  divide, 

xxv.  Before  the  dore  sat  selfe-consuming  Care, 

Day  and  night  keeping  wary  watch  and  ward, 

For  feare  least  Force  or  Fraud  should  unaware 

Breake  in,  and  spoile  the  treasure  there  in  gard: 

Ne  would  he  suffer  Sleepe  once  thither-ward 

Approch,  albe  his  drowsy  den  were  next; 

For  next  to  death  is  Sleepe  to  be  compard ; 

Therefore  his  house  is  unto  his  annext: 

Here  Sleep,  ther  Richesse,  and  Hel-gate  them  bothbetwext. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  So  soon  as  Mammon  there  arrivd,  the  dore 
To  him  did  open  and  affoorded  way: 
Him  followed  eke  Sir  Guyon  evermore, 
Ne  darkenesse  him,  ne  daunger  might  dismay. 
Soone  as  he  entred  was,  the  dore  streight  way 
Did  shutt,  and  from  behind  it  forth  there  lept 
An  ugly  feend,  more  fowle  then  dismall  day, 
The  which  with  monstrous  stalke  behind  him  stept, 
And  ever  as  he  went  dew  watch  upon  him  kept. 

xxvii.  Well  hoped  hee,  ere  long  that  hardy  guest, 
If  ever  covetous  hand,  or  lustfull  eye, 
Or  lips  he  layd  on  thing  that  likte  him  best, 
Or  ever  sleepe  his  eie-strings  did  untye, 
Should  be  his  pray.    And  therefore  still  on  hye 
He  over  him  did  hold  his  cruell  clawes, 
Threatning  with  greedy  gripe  to  doe  him  dye, 
And  rend  in  peeces  with  his  ravenous  pawes, 
If  ever  he  transgrest  the  fatall  Stygian  lawes. 

xxviii.  That  houses  forme  within  was  rude  and  strong, 
Lyke  an  huge  cave  hewne  out  of  rocky  clifte, 
From  whose  rough  vaut  the  ragged  breaches  hong 
Embost  with  massy  gold  of  glorious  guifte, 
And  with  rich  metall  loaded  every  rifte, 
That  heavy  ruine  they  did  seeme  to  threatt; 
And  over  them  Arachne  did  lifte 
Her  cunning  web,  and  spred  her  subtile  nett, 
Enwrapped  in  fowle  smoke  and  clouds  more  black 
than  Jett. 

xxix.  Both  roofe,  and  floore,  and  walls,  were  all  of  gold, 
But  overgrowne  with  dust  and  old  decay, 
And  hid  in  darkenes,  that  none  could  behold 
The  hew  thereof;  for  vew  of  cherefull  day 
Did  never  in  that  house  it  selfe  display, 
But  a  faint  shadow  of  uncertein  light: 
Such  as  a  lamp,  whose  life  does  fade  away, 
Or  as  the  Moone,  cloathed  with  clowdy  night, 
Does  show  to  him  that  walkes  in  feare  and  sad  affright. 


xxx.  In  all  that  rowme  was  nothing  to  be  seene 

But  huge  great  yron  chests,  and  coffers  strong, 
All  bard  with  double  bends,  that  none  could  weene 

Book  II— Canto  VII  247 

Them  to  efforce  by  violence  or  wrong: 

On  every  side  they  placed  were  along; 

But  all  the  grownd  with  sculs  was  scattered, 

And  dead  mens  bones,  which  round  about  were  flong; 

Whose  lives,  it  seemed,  whilome  there  were  shed, 

And  their  vile  carcases  now  left  unburied. 

xxxi.  They  forward  passe ;  ne  Guyon  yet  spoke  word, 
Till  that  they  came  unto  an  yron  dore, 
Which  to  them  opened  of  his  owne  accord, 
And  shewd  of  richesse  such  exceeding  store, 
As  eie  of  man  did  never  see  before, 
Ne  ever  could  within  one  place  be  fownd, 
Though  all  the  wealth  which  is,  or  was  of  yore, 
Could  gathered  be  through  all  the  world  arownd, 
And  that  above  were  added  to  that  under  grownd. 

xxxii.  The  charge  thereof  unto  a  covetous  Spright 
Commaunded  was,  who  thereby  did  attend, 
And  warily  awaited  day  and  night, 
From  other  covetous  feends  it  to  defend, 
Who  it  to  rob  and  ransacke  did  intend. 
Then  Mammon,  turning  to  that  warriour,  said  ; 
"  Loe!  here  the  worldes  blis:  loe!  here  the  end, 
To  which  al  men  doe  ayme,  rich  to  be  made : 
Such  grace  now  to  be  happy  is  before  thee  laid." 

xxxiii.  "  Certes,"  (sayd  he)  "  I  n'ill  thine  ofTred  grace, 
Ne  to  be  made  so  happy  doe  intend : 
Another  blis  before  mine  eyes  I  place, 
Another  happines,  another  end. 
To  them  that  list  these  base  regardes  I  lend; 
But  I  in  armes,  and  in  atchievements  brave, 
Do  rather  choose  my  flitting  houres  to  spend, 
And  to  be  Lord  of  those  that  riches  have, 
Then  them  to  have  my  selfe,  and  be  their  servile  sclave." 

xxxiv.  Thereat  the  feend  his  gnashing  teeth  did  grate, 
And  griev'd  so  long  to  lacke  his  greedie  pray; 
For  well  he  weened  that  so  glorious  bayte 
Would  tempt  his  guest  to  take  thereof  assay; 
Had  he  so  doen,  he  had  him  snatcht  away, 
More  light  then  Culver  in  the  Faulcons  fist. 

248  The  Faerie  Queene 

Eternall  God  thee  save  from  such  decay ! 
But,  whenas  Mammon  saw  his  purpose  mist, 
Him  to  entrap  unwares  another  way  he  wist. 

xxxv.  Thence  forward  he  him  ledd,  and  shortly  brought 
Unto  another  rowme,  whose  dore  forthright 
To  him  did  open,  as  it  had  been  taught. 
Therein  an  hundred  raunges  weren  pight, 
And  hundred  fournaces  all  burning  bright: 
By  every  fournace  many  feendes  did  byde, 
Deformed  creatures,  horrible  in  sight; 
And  every  feend  his  busie  paines  applyde 
To  melt  the  golden  metall,  ready  to  be  tryde. 

xxxvi.  One  with  great  bellowes  gathered  filling  ayre, 
And  with  forst  wind  the  fewell  did  inflame; 
Another  did  the  dying  bronds  repayre 
With  yron  tongs,  and  sprinckled  ofte  the  same 
With  liquid  waves,  fiers  Vulcans  rage  to  tame, 
Who,  maystnng  them,  renewd  his  former  heat : 
Some  scumd  the  drosse  that  from  the  metall  came; 
Some  stird  the  molten  owre  with  ladles  great; 
And  every  one  did  swincke,  and  every  one  did  sweat. 

xxxvii.  But,  when  an  earthly  wight  they  present  saw 
Glistring  in  armes  and  battailous  aray, 
From  their  whot  work  they  did  themselves  withdraw 
To  wonder  at  the  sight;  for  till  that  day 
They  never  creature  saw  that  cam  that  way : 
Their  staring  eyes  sparckling  with  fervent  fyre 
And  ugly  shapes  did  nigh  the  man  dismay, 
That,  were  it  not  for  shame,  he  would  retyre ; 
Till  that  him  thus  bespake  their  soveraine  Lord  and 

xxxviii.  "  Behold,  thou  Faeries  sonne,  with  mortall  eye, 
That  living  eye  before  did  never  see. 
The  thing,  that  thou  didst  crave  so  earnestly, 
To  weet  whence  all  the  wealth  late  shewd  by  mee 
Proceeded,  lo !  now  is  reveald  to  thee. 
Here  is  the  fountaine  of  the  worldes  good: 
Now,  therefore,  if  thou  wilt  enriched  bee, 
Avise  thee  well,  and  chaunge  thy  wilfull  mood, 
Least  thou  perhaps  hereafter  wish,  and  be  withstood.' ' 

Book  II— Canto  VII  249 

xxxix.  "  Suffise  it  then,  thou  Money  God,"  (quoth  hee) 
"  That  all  thine  yclle  offers  I  refuse. 
All  that  I  need  I  have :  what  needeth  mee 
To  covet  more  then  I  have  cause  to  use  ? 
With  such  vaine  shewes  thy  worldlinges  vyle  abuse; 
But  give  me  leave  to  follow  mine  emprise." 
Mammon  was  much  displeasd,  yet  no'te  he  chuse 
But  beare  the  rigour  of  his  bold  mesprise ; 
And  thence  him  forward  ledd  him  further  to  entise. 

XL.  He  brought  him,  through  a  darksom  narrow  strayt, 
To  a  broad  gate  all  built  of  beaten  gold : 
The  gate  was  open ;  but  therein  did  wayt 
A  sturdie  villein,  stryding  stiffe  and  bold, 
As  if  the  highest  God  defy  he  would : 
In  his  right  hand  an  yron  club  he  held, 
But  he  himselfe  was  all  of  golden  mould, 
Yet  had  both  life  and  sence,  and  well  could  weld 
That  cursed  weapon,  when  his  cruell  foes  he  queld. 

xli.  Disdayne  he  called  was,  and  did  disdayne 
To  be  so  caid,  and  who  so  did  him  call: 
Sterne  was  his  looke,  and  full  of  stomacke  vayne ; 
His  portaunce  terrible,  and  stature  tall, 
Far  passing  th'  hight  of  men  terrestriall, 
Like  an  huge  Gyant  of  the  Titans  race ; 
That  made  him  scorne  all  creatures  great  and  small. 
And  with  his  pride  all  others  powre  deface: 
More  fitt  emongst  black  fiendes  then  men  to  have  his 

xlii.  Soone  as  those  glitterand  armes  he  did  espye, 

That  with  their  brightnesse  made  that  darknes  light, 

His  harmefull  club  he  gan  to  hurtle  hye, 

And  threaten  batteill  to  the  Faery  knight; 

Who  likewise  gan  himselfe  to  batteill  dight, 

Till  Mammon  did  his  hasty  hand  withhold, 

And  counseld  him  abstaine  from  perilous  fight; 

For  nothing  might  abash  the  villein  bold, 

Ne  mortall  Steele  emperce  his  miscreated  mould. 

xliii.  So  having  him  with  reason  pacifyde, 

And  that  fiers  Carle  commaunding  to  forbeare, 

250  The  Faerie  Qusene 

He  brought  him  in.    The  rowme  was  large  and  wyde, 
As  it  some  Gyeld  or  solemne  Temple  weare. 
Many  great  golden  pillours  did  upbeare 
The  massy  roofe,  and  riches  huge  sustayne; 
And  every  pillour  decked  was  full  deare 
With  crownes,  and  Diademes,  and  titles  vaine, 
Which  mortall  Princes  wore  whiles  they  on  earth  did 

xliv.  A  route  of  people  there  assembled  were, 
Of  every  sort  and  nation  under  skye, 
Which  with  great  uprore  preaced  to  draw  nere 
To  th'  upper  part,  where  was  advaunced  hye 
A  stately  siege  of  soveraine  majestye; 
And  thereon  satt  a  woman,  gorgeous  gay 
And  richly  cladd  in  robes  of  royaltye, 
That  never  earthly  Prince  in  such  array 
His  glory  did  enhaunce,  and  pompous  pryde  display. 

xlv.  Her  face  right  wondrous  fa  ire  did  seeme  to  bee, 

That  her  broad  beauties  beam  great  brightnes  threw 
Through  the  dim  shade,  that  all  men  might  it  see: 
Yet  was  not  that  same  her  owne  native  hew, 
But  wrought  by  art  and  counterfetted  shew, 
Thereby  more  lovers  unto  her  to  call: 
Nath'lesse  most  hevenly  faire  in  deed  and  vew 
She  by  creation  was,  till  she  did  fall; 
Thenceforth  she  sought  for  helps  to  cloke  her  crime 

XL vi.  There,  as  in  glistring  glory  she  did  sitt, 

She  held  a  great  gold  chaine  ylincked  well, 
Wliose  upper  end  to  highest  heven  was  knitt, 
And  lower  part  did  reach  to  lowest  Hell; 
And  all  that  preace  did  rownd  about  her  swell 
To  catchen  hold  of  that  long  chaine,  thereby 
To  climbe  aloft,  and  others  to  excell: 
That  was  Ambition,  rash  desire  to  sty, 
And  every  linck  thereof  a  step  of  dignity. 

xlvii.  Some  thought  to  raise  themselves  to  high  degree 
By  riches  and  unrighteous  reward; 
Some  by  close  shouldring;  some  by  flatteree; 

Book  II— Canto  VII  251 

Others  through  friendes;  others  for  base  regard, 
And  all  by  wrong  waies  for  themselves  prepard : 
Those  that  were  up  themselves  kept  others  low; 
Those  that  were  low  themselves  held  others  hard, 
Ne  suffred  them  to  ry se  or  greater  grow  ; 
But  every  one  did  strive  his  fellow  downe  to  throw. 

xlviii.  Which  whenas  Guyon  saw,  he  gan  inquire, 

What  meant  that  preace  about  that  Ladies  throne, 

And  what  she  was  that  did  so  high  aspyre? 

Him  Mammon  answered;  "  That  goodly  one, 

Whom  all  that  folke  with  such  contention 

Doe  flock  about,  my  deare,  my  daughter  is: 

Honour  and  dignitie  from  her  alone 

Derived  are,  and  all  this  worldes  blis, 

For  which  ye  men  doe  strive;  few  gett,  but  many  mis : 

xlix.  "  And  fay  re  Philotime  she  rightly  hight, 
The  fairest  wight  that  wonneth  under  skie, 
But  that  this  darksom  neather  world  her  light 
Doth  dim  with  horror  and  deformity ; 
Worthie  of  heven  and  hye  felicitie, 
From  whence  the  gods  have  her  for  envy  thrust: 
But,  sith  thou  hast  found  favour  in  mine  eye, 
Thy  spouse  I  will  her  make,  if  that  thou  lust, 
That  she  may  thee  advance  for  works  and  merits  just." 

L.  "  Gramercy,  Mammon/'  (said  the  gentle  knight) 
"  For  so  great  grace  and  offred  high  estate; 
But  I,  that  am  fraile  flesh  and  earthly  wight, 
Unworthy  match  for  such  immortall  mate 
My  selfe  well  wote,  and  mine  unequall  fate: 
And  were  I  not,  yet  is  my  trouth  yplight, 
And  love  avowd  to  other  Lady  late, 
That  to  remove  the  same  I  have  no  might: 
To  chaunge  love  causelesse  is  reproch  to  warlike  knight." 

Li.  Mammon  emmoved  was  with  inward  wrath; 
Yet,  forcing  it  to  fayne,  him  forth  thence  ledd, 
Through  griesly  shadowes  by  a  beaten  path, 
Into  a  gardin  goodly  garnished 

With  hearbs  and  fruits,  whose  kinds  mote  not  be  redd : 
Not  such  as  earth  out  of  her  fruitfull  woomb 

252  The  Faerie  Queene 

Throwes  forth  to  men,  sweet  and  well  savored, 
But  direfull  deadly  black,  both  leafe  and  bloom, 
Fitt  to  adorne  the  dead,  and  deck  the  drery  toombe. 

lii.  There  mournfull  Cypresse  grew  in  greatest  store, 
And  trees  of  bitter  Gall,  and  Heben  sad  ; 
Dead  sleeping  Poppy,  and  black  Hellebore; 
Cold  Coloquintida,  and  Tetra  mad; 
Mortall  Samnitis,  and  Cicuta  bad, 
With  which  th'  unjust  Atheniens  made  to  dy 
Wise  Socrates ;  who,  thereof  quaffing  glad, 
Pourd  out  his  life  and  last  Philosophy 
To  the  fayre  Critias,  his  dearest  Belamy ! 

liii.  The  Gardin  of  Proserpina  this  hight; 
And  in  the  midst  thereof  a  silver  seat, 
With  a  thick  Arber  goodly  over-dight, 
In  which  she  often  usd  from  open  heat 
Her  selfe  to  shroud,  and  pleasures  to  entreat: 
Next  thereunto  did  grow  a  goodly  tree, 
With  braunches  broad  dispredd  and  body  great, 
Clothed  with  leaves,  that  non  the  wood  mote  see, 
And  loaden  all  with  fruit  as  thick  as  it  might  bee, 

liv.  Their  fruit  were  golden  apples  glistring  bright, 
That  goodly  was  their  glory  to  behold ; 
On  earth  like  never  grew,  ne  living  wight 
Like  ever  saw,  but  they  from  hence  were  sold ; 
For  those  which  Hercules,  with  conquest  bold 
Got  from  great  Atlas  daughters,  hence  began, 
And  planted  there  did  bring  forth  fruit  of  gold ; 
And  those  with  which  th'  Eubcean  young  man  wan 
Swift  Atalanta,  when  through  craft  he  her  out  ran. 

lv.  Here  also  sprong  that  goodly  golden  fruit, 
With  which  Acontius  got  his  lover  trew, 
Whom  he  had  long  time  sought  with  fruitlesse  suit: 
Here  eke  that  famous  golden  Apple  grew 
The  which  emongst  the  gods  false  Ate  threw; 
For  which  th'  Idaean  Ladies  disagreed, 
Till  partiall  Paris  dempt  it  Venus  dew, 
And  had  of  her  fayre  Helen  for  his  meed, 
That  many  noble  Greekes  and  Trojans  made  to  bleed. 

Book  II — Canto  VII  253 

lvi.  The  warlike  Elfe  much  wondred  at  this  tree, 

So  fayre  and  great  that  shadowed  all  the  ground, 
And  his  broad  braunches,  laden  with  rich  fee, 
Did  stretcht  themselves  without  the  utmost  bound 
Of  this  great  gardin,  compast  with  a  mound; 
Which  over-hanging,  they  themselves  did  steepe 
In  a  blacke  flood,  which  flow'd  about  it  round. 
That  is  the  river  of  Cocytus  deepe, 
In  which  full  many  soules  do  endlesse  wayle  and  weepe. 

lvii.  Which  to  behold  he  clomb  up  to  the  bancke, 
And  looking  downe  saw  many  damned  wightes 
In  those  sad  waves,  which  direfull  deadly  stancke, 
Plonged  continually  of  cruell  Sprightes, 
That  with  their  piteous  cryes,  and  yelling  shrightes, 
They  made  the  further  shore  resounden  wide. 
Emongst  the  rest  of  those  same  ruefull  sightes, 
One  cursed  creature  he  by  chaunce  espide, 
That  drenched  lay  full  deepe  under  the  Garden  side. 

lviii.  Deepe  was  he  drenched  to  the  upmost  chin, 
Yet  gaped  still  as  coveting  to  drinke 
Of  the  cold  liquor  which  he  waded  in; 
And  stretching  forth  his  hand  did  often  thinke 
To  reach  the  fruit  which  grew  upon  the  brincke; 
But  both  the  fruit  from  hand,  and  flood  from  mouth, 
Did  fly  abacke,  and  made  him  vainely  swincke; 
The  whiles  he  sterv'd  with  hunger,  and  with  drouth, 
He  daily  dyde,  yet  never  throughly  dyen  couth, 

lix.  The  knight,  him  seeing  labour  so  in  vaine, 
Askt  who  he  was,  and  what  he  ment  thereby  ? 
Who,  groning  deepe,  thus  answerd  him  againe; 
"  Most  cursed  of  all  creatures  under  skye, 
Lo!   Tantalus,  I  here  tormented  lye: 
Of  whom  high  Jove  wont  whylome  feasted  bee; 
Lo !  here  I  now  for  want  of  food  doe  dye: 
But,  if  that  thou  be  such  as  I  thee  see, 
Of  grace  I  pray  thee,  give  to  eat  and  drinke  to  mee !  " 

lx.  "  Nay,  nay,  thou  greedy  Tantalus,"  (quoth  he) 
M  Abide  the  fortune  of  thy  present  fate; 
And  unto  all  that  live  in  high  degree, 

254  The  Faerie  Queene 

Ensample  be  of  mind  intemperate, 

To  teach  them  how  to  use  their  present  state. " 

Then  gan  the  cursed  wretch  alowd  to  cry, 

Accusing  highest  Jove  and  gods  ingrate; 

And  eke  blaspheming  heaven  bitterly, 

As  author  of  unjustice,  there  to  let  him  dye. 

lxi.  He  lookt  a  litle  further,  and  espyde 

Another  wretch,  whose  carcas  deepe  was  drent 
Within  the  river,  which  the  same  did  hyde; 
But  both  his  handes,  most  filthy  feculent, 
Above  the  water  were  on  high  extent, 
And  faynd  to  wash  themselves  incessantly, 
Yet  nothing  cleaner  were  for  such  intent, 
But  rather  fowler  seemed  to  the  eye ; 
So  lost  his  labour  vaine  and  ydle  industry, 

lxii.  The  knight  him  calling  asked  who  he  was  ? 
Who,  lifting  up  his  head,  him  answered  thus; 
"  I  Pilate  am,  the  falsest  Judge,  alas ! 
And  most  unjust;  that,  by  unrighteous 
And  wicked  doome,  to  Jewes  despiteous 
Delivered  up  the  Lord  of  life  to  dye, 
And  did  acquite  a  murdrer  felonous ; 
The  whiles  my  handes  I  washt  in  purity, 
The  whiles  my  soule  was  soyld  with  fowle  iniquity." 

lxiii.  Infinite  moe  tormented  in  like  paine 

He  there  beheld,  too  long  here  to  be  told: 

Ne  Mammon  would  there  let  him  long  remayne, 

For  terrour  of  the  tortures  manifold, 

In  which  the  damned  soules  he  did  behold, 

But  roughly  him  bespake:   "  Thou  fearefull  foole, 

Why  takest  not  of  that  same  fruite  of  gold  ? 

Ne  sittest  downe  on  that  same  silver  stoole, 

To  rest  thy  weary  person  in  the  shadow  coole  ?  " 

lxiv.  All  which  he  did  to  do  him  deadly  fall 

In  frayle  intemperaunce  through  sinfull  bayt; 
To  which  if  he  inclyned  had  at  all, 
That  dreadfull  feend,  which  did  behinde  him  wayt, 
Would  him  have  rent  in  thousand  peeces  stray t: 
But  he  was  wary  wise  in  all  his  way, 

Book  II— Canto  VII  255 

And  well  perceived  his  deceiptfull  sleight, 

Ne  suffred  lust  his  safety  to  betray. 

So  goodly  did  beguile  the  Guyler  of  his  pray* 

lxv.  And  now  he  has  so  long  remained  theare, 

That  vitall  powres  gan  wexe  both  weake  and  wan 

For  want  of  food  and  sleepe,  which  two  upbeare, 

Like  mightie  pillours,  this  frayle  life  of  man, 

That  none  without  the  same  enduren  can: 

For  now  three  dayes  of  men  were  full  out-wrought, 

Since  he  this  hardy  enterprize  began: 

Forthy  great  Mammon  fayrely  he  besought 

Into  the  world  to  guyde  him  backe,  as  he  him  brought. 

lxvi.  The  God,  though  loth,  yet  was  constraynd  t'  obay; 
For  lenger  time  then  that  no  living  wight 
Below  the  earth  might  suffred  be  to  stay: 
So  backe  againe  him  brought  to  living  light* 
But  all  so  soone  as  his  enfeebled  spright 
Gan  sucke  this  vitall  ayre  into  his  brest, 
As  overcome  with  too  exceeding  might, 
The  life  did  flit  away  out  of  her  nest, 
And  all  his  sences  were  with  deadly  fit  opprest. 


The  Faerie  Queene 


Sir  Guyon,  layd  in  swowne,  is  by 
Aerates  sonnes  despoyld; 
Whom  Arthure  soone  hath  reskewed, 
And  Paynim  brethren  foyld. 

I.  And  is  there  care  in  heaven?    And  is  there  love 
In  heavenly  spirits  to  these  creatures  bace, 
That  may  compassion  of  their  evilles  move  ? 
There  is :  else  much  more  wretched  were  the  cace 
Of  men  then  beasts.     But  0 !  th'  exceeding  grace 
Of  highest  God  that  loves  his  creatures  so, 
And  all  his  workes  with  mercy  doth  embrace, 
That  blessed  Angels  he  sends  to  and  fro, 
To  serve  to  wicked  man,  to  serve  his  wicked  foe,* 

11.  How  oft  do  they  their  silver  bowers  leave, 
To  come  to  succour  us  that  succour  want ! 
How  oft  do  they  with  golden  pineons  cleave 
The  flitting  skyes,  like  flying  Pursuivant, 
Against  fowle  feendes  to  ayd  us  militant ! 
They  for  us  fight,  they  watch  and  dewly  ward, 
And  their  bright  Squadrons  round  about  us  plant; 
And  all  for  love,  and  nothing  for  reward. 
0 !  why  should  hevenly  God  to  men  have  such  regard  ? 

in.  During  the  while  that  Guyon  did  abide 

In  Mamons  house,  the  Palmer,  whom  whyleare 
That  wanton  Mayd  of  passage  had  denide, 
By  further  search  had  passage  found  elsewhere; 
And,  being  on  his  way,  approched  neare 
Where  Guyon  lay  in  traunce ;  when  suddeinly 
He  heard  a  voyce  that  called  lowd  and  cleare, 
"  Come  hither !  hither!  0,  come  hastily !  " 
That  all  the  fields  resounded  with  the  ruefull  cry. 

iv.  The  Palmer  lent  his  eare  unto  the  noyce, 
To  weet  who  called  so  importune ly : 
Againe  he  heard  a  more  efforced  voyce, 

Book  II— Canto  VIII  257 

That  bad  him  come  in  haste.     He  by  and  by 

His  feeble  feet  directed  to  the  cry; 

Which  to  that  shady  delve  him  brought  at  last, 

Where  Mammon  earst  did  sunne  his  threasury ; 

There  the  good  Guyon  he  found  slum  bring  fast 

In  senceles  dreame ;  which  sight  at  first  him  sore  aghast. 

v.  Beside  his  head  there  satt  a  faire  young  man, 
Of  wondrous  beauty  and  of  freshest  yeares, 
Whose  tender  bud  to  blossome  new  began, 
And  florish  faire  above  his  equall  peares: 
His  snowy  front,  curled  with  golden  heares, 
Like  Phcebus  face  adornd  with  sunny  rayes, 
Divinely  shone ;  and  two  sharpe  winged  sheares, 
Decked  with  diverse  plumes,  like  painted  Jayes, 
Were  fixed  at  his  backe  to  cut  his  ayery  wayes, 

vi.  Like  as  Cupido  on  Idaean  hill, 

When  having  laid  his  cruell  bow  away 
And  mortall  arrowes,  wherewith  he  doth  fill 
The  world  with  murdrous  spoiles  and  bloody  pray, 
With  his  faire  mother  he  him  dights  to  play, 
And  with  his  goodly  sisters,  Graces  three: 
The  Goddesse,  pleased  with  his  wanton  play, 
Suffers  her  selfe  through  sleepe  beguild  to  bee, 
The  whiles  the  other  Ladies  mind  theyr  mery  glee. 

vii.  Whom  when  the  Palmer  saw,  abasht  he  was 

Through  fear  and  wonder  that  he  nought  could  say, 

Till  him  the  childe  bespoke;  "  Long  lackt,  alas! 

Hath  bene  thy  faithfull  aide  in  hard  assay, 

Whiles  deadly  fitt  thy  pupill  doth  dismay. 

Behold  this  heavy  sight,  thou  reverend  Sire  I 

But  dread  of  death  and  dolor  doe  away; 

For  life  ere  long  shall  to  her  home  retire, 

And  he  that  breathlesse  seems  shal  corage  both  respire. 

Viil.  "  The  charge,  which  God  doth  unto  me  arrett, 
Of  his  deare  safety,  I  to  thee  commend; 
Yet  will  I  not  forgoe,  ne  yet  forgett 
The  care  thereof  my  selfe  unto  the  end, 
But  evermore  him  succour,  and  defend 
Against  his  foe  and  mine :  watch  thou,  I  pray, 

258  The  Faerie  Queene 

For  evill  is  at  hand  him  to  offend. " 

So  having  said,  eftsoones  he  gan  display 

His  painted  nimble  wings,  and  vanish t  quite  away. 

ix.  The  Palmer  seeing  his  lefte  empty  place, 
And  his  slow  eies  beguiled  of  their  sight, 
Woxe  sore  affraid,  and  standing  still  a  space 
Gaz'd  after  him,  as  fowle  escapt  by  flight. 
At  last,  him  turning  to  his  charge  benight, 
With  trembling  hand  his  troubled  pulse  gan  try; 
Where  finding  life  not  yet  dislodged  quight, 
He  much  rejoyst,  and  courd  it  tenderly, 
As  chicken  newly  hatcht,  from  dreaded  destiny. 

x.  At  last  he  spide  where  towards  him  did  pace 
Two  Paynim  knights  al  armd  as  bright  as  skie, 
And  them  beside  an  aged  Sire  did  trace, 
And  far  before  a  light-foote  Page  did  flie, 
That  breathed  strife  and  troublous  enmitie.: 
Those  were  the  two  sonnes  of  Aerates  old, 
Who,  meeting  earst  with  Archimago  slie 
Foreby  that  idle  strond,  of  him  were  told 
That  he  which  earst  them  combatted  was  Guyon  bold» 

xi.  WTiich  to  avenge  on  him  they  dearly  vowd, 
Where  ever  that  on  ground  they  mote  him  find : 
False  Archimage  provokte  their  corage  prowd, 
And  stryful  Atin  in  their  stubborne  mind 
Coles  of  contention  and  whot  vengeaunce  tind. 
Now  bene  they  come  whereas  the  Palmer  sate, 
Keeping  that  slombred  corse  to  him  assind : 
Well  knew  they  both  his  person,  sith  of  late 
WTith  him  in  bloody  armes  they  rashly  did  debate. 

xii.  Whom  when  Pyrochles  saw,  inflam'd  with  rage 
That  sire  he  fowl  bespake:  Thou  dotard  vile, 
That  with  thy  brutenesse  shendst  thy  comely  age, 
Abandon  soone,  I  read,  the  caytive  spoile 
Of  that  same  outcast  carcas,  that  erewhile 
Made  it  selfe  famous  through  false  trechery, 
And  crownd  his  coward  crest  with  knightly  stile ; 
Loe !  where  he  now  inglorious  doth  lye, 
To  proove  he  lived  il  that  did  thus  fowly  dye. 

Book  II— Canto  VIII  259 

xiii.  To  whom  the  Palmer  fearlesse  answered: 

"  Certes,  Sir  knight,  ye  bene  too  much  to  blame, 
Thus  for  to  blott  the  honor  of  the  dead, 
And  with  fowle  cowardize  his  carcas  shame, 
Whose  living  handes  immortalizd  his  name* 
Vile  is  the  vengeaunce  on  the  ashes  cold, 
And  envy  base  to  barke  at  sleeping  fame. 
Was  never  wight  that  treason  of  him  told : 
Your  self  his  prowesse  prov'd,  and  found  him  fiers  and 

xiv.  Then  sayd  Cymochles:  "  Palmer,  thou  doest  dote, 
Ne  canst  of  prowesse  ne  of  knighthood  deeme, 
Save  as  thou  seest  or  hearst.     But  well  I  wote, 
That  of  his  puissance  tryall  made  extreeme: 
Yet  gold  al  is  not  that  doth  golden  seeme ; 
Ne  all  good  knights  that  shake  well  speare  and  shield. 
The  worth  of  all  men  by  their  end  esteeme, 
And  then  dew  praise  or  dew  reproch  them  yield ; 
Bad  therefore  I  him  deeme  that  thus  lies  dead  on  field." 

xv.  "  Good  or  bad,"  gan  his  brother  fiers  reply, 
"  What  doe  I  recke,  sith  that  he  dide  entire? 
Or  what  doth  his  bad  death  now  satisfy 
The  greedy  hunger  of  revenging  yre, 
Sith  wrathfull  hand  wrought  not  her  owne  desire  ? 
Yet  since  no  way  is  lefte  to  wreake  my  spight, 
I  will  him  reave  of  armes,  the  victors  hire, 
And  of  that  shield,  more  worthy  of  good  knight; 
For  why  should  a  dead  dog  be  deckt  in  armour  bright?  " 

xvi.  "  Fayr  Sir,"  said  then  the  Palmer  suppliaunt, 
"  For  knighthoods  love  doe  not  so  fowle  a  deed, 
Ne  blame  your  honor  with  so  shamefull  vaunt 
Of  vile  revenge.    To  spoile  the  dead  of  weed 
Is  sacrilege,  and  doth  all  sinnes  exceed: 
But  leave  these  relicks  of  his  living  might 
To  decke  his  herce,  and  trap  his  tomb-blacke  steed." 
"  What  herce  or  steed  "  (said  he) "  should  he  have  dight, 
But  be  entombed  in  the  raven  or  the  kight?  " 

xvii.  With  that,  rude  hand  upon  his  shield  he  laid, 
And  th'  other  brother  gan  his  helme  unlace, 
Both  fiercely  bent  to  have  him  disaraid; 

260  The  Faerie  Queene 

Till  that  they  spyde  where  towards  them  did  pace 
An  armed  knight,  of  bold  and  bounteous  grace, 
Whose  squire  bore  after  him  an  heben  launce 
And  covered  shield.     Well  kend  him  so  far  space 
TV  enchaunter  by  his  armes  and  amenaunce, 
When  under  him  he  saw  his  Lybian  steed  to  praunce ; 

xviii.  And  to  those  brethren  sayd ;  "  Rise,  rise  bylive, 
And  unto  batteil  doe  your  selves  addresse; 
For  yonder  comes  the  prowest  knight  alive, 
Prince  Arthur,  flowre  of  grace  and  nobilesse, 
That  hath  to  Paynim  knights  wrought  gret  distresse, 
And  thousand  Sar'zins  fowly  donne  to  dye." 
That  word  so  deepe  did  in  their  harts  impresse, 
That  both  eftsoones  upstarted  furiously, 
And  gan  themselves  prepare  to  batteill  greedily* 

xix.  But  tiers  Pyrochles,  lacking  his  owne  sword, 
The  want  thereof  now  greatly  gan  to  plaine, 
And  Archimage  besought,  him  that  afford 
WTiich  he  had  brought  for  Braggadochio  vaine. 
"  So  would  I,"  (said  th'  enchaunter)  "  glad  and  faine 
Beteeme  to  you  this  sword,  you  to  defend, 
Or  ought  that  els  your  honour  might  maintaine ; 
But  that  this  weapons  powre  I  well  have  kend 
To  be  contrary  to  the  worke  which  ye  intend : 

xx.  "  For  that  same  knights  owne  sword  that  is,  of  yore 
Which  Merlin  made  by  his  almightie  art 
For  that  his  noursling,  when  he  knighthood  swore, 
Therewith  to  doen  his  foes  eternall  smart. 
The  metall  first  he  mext  with  Medaewart, 
That  no  enchauntment  from  his  dint  might  save ; 
Then  it  in  flames  of  Aetna  wrought  apart, 
And  seven  times  dipped  in  the  bitter  wave 
Of  hellish  Styx,  which  hidden  vertue  to  it  gave. 

xxi.  "  The  vertue  is,  that  nether  Steele  nor  stone 
The  stroke  thereof  from  entraunce  may  defend; 
Ne  ever  may  be  used  by  his  fone, 
Ne  forst  his  rightful  owner  to  offend; 
Ne  ever  will  it  breake,  ne  ever  bend : 
Wherefore  Morddure  it  rightfully  is  hight. 

Book  II— Canto  VIII  261 

In  vaine  therefore,  Pyrochles,  should  I  lend 
The  same  to  thee,  against  his  lord  to  fight; 
For  sure  yt  would  deceive  thy  labor  and  thy  might." 

xxii.  "  Foolish  old  man/'  said  then  the  Pagan  wroth, 

"  That  weenest  words  or  charms  may  force  withstand: 

Soone  shalt  thou  see,  and  then  beleeve  for  troth, 

That  I  can  carve  with  this  inchaunted  brond 

His  Lords  owne  flesh."     Therewith  out  of  his  hond 

That  vertuous  Steele  he  rudely  snatcht  away, 

And  Guyons  shield  about  his  wrest  he  bond: 

So  ready  dight  fierce  battaile  to  assay, 

And  match  his  brother  proud  in  battailous  aray. 

xxiii.  By  this,  that  straunger  knight  in  presence  came, 
And  goodly  salued  them ;  who  nought  againe 
Him  answered,  as  courtesie  became; 
But  with  sterne  lookes,  and  stomachous  disdaine, 
Gave  signes  of  grudge  and  discontentment  vaine. 
Then,  turning  to  the  Palmer,  he  gan  spy 
Where  at  his  feet,  with  sorrowful!  demayne 
And  deadly  hew,  an  armed  corse  did  lye, 
In  whose  dead  face  he  redd  great  magnanimity. 

xxiv.  Sayd  he  then  to  the  Palmer:  "  Reverend  Syre, 
What  great  misfortune  hath  betidd  this  knight? 
Or  did  his  life  her  fatall  date  expyre, 
Or  did  he  fall  by  treason,  or  by  fight? 
How  ever,  sure  I  rew  his  pitteous  plight." 
"  Not  one,  nor  other,"  sayd  the  Palmer  grave, 
"  Hath  him  befalne ;  but  cloudes  of  deadly  night 
A  while  his  heavy  eylids  cover'd  have, 
And  all  his  sences  drowned  in  deep  sencelesse  wave: 

xxv.  "  Which  those  his  cruell  foes,  that  stand  hereby, 
Making  advauntage,  to  revenge  their  spight, 
Would  him  disarme  and  treaten  shamefully; 
Unworthie  usage  of  redoubted  knight. 
But  you,  faire  Sir,  whose  honourable  sight 
Doth  promise  hope  of  helpe  and  timely  grace, 
Mote  I  beseech  to  succour  his  sad  plight, 
And  by  your  powre  protect  his  feeble  cace  ? 
First  prayse  of  knighthood  is  fowle  outrage  to  deface." 

262  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  M  Palmer,"  (said  he)  "  no  knight  so  rude,  I  weene, 
As  to  doen  outrage  to  a  sleeping  ghost; 
Ne  was  there  ever  noble  corage  seene, 
That  in  advauntage  would  his  puissaunce  bost: 
Honour  is  least  where  oddes  appeareth  most. 
May  bee,  that  better  reason  will  aswage 
The  rash  revengers  heat.     Words,  well  dispost, 
Have  secrete  powre  t'  appease  inflamed  rage : 
If  not,  leave  unto  me  thy  knights  last  patronage/ ' 

xxvii.  Tho,  turning  to  those  brethren,  thus  bespoke: 

"  Ye  warlike  payre,  whose  valorous  great  might, 
It  seemes,  just  wronges  to  vengeaunce  doe  provoke, 
To  wreake  your  wrath  on  this  dead  seeming  knight, 
Mote  ought  allay  the  storme  of  your  despight, 
And  settle  patience  in  so  furious  heat? 
Not  to  debate  the  chalenge  of  your  right, 
But  for  his  carkas  pardon  I  entreat, 
Whom  fortune  hath  already  laid  in  lowest  seat." 

xxviii.  To  whom  Cymochles  said;  "  For  what  art  thou, 
That  mak'st  thy  selfe  his  dayes-man,  to  prolong 
The  vengeaunce  prest  ?     Or  who  shall  let  me  now 
On  this  vile  body  from  to  wreak  my  wrong, 
And  made  his  carkas  as  the  outcast  dong  ? 
Why  should  not  that  dead  carrion  satisfye 
The  guilt  which,  if  he  lived  had  thus  long, 
His  life  for  dew  revenge  should  deare  abye? 
The  trespass  still  doth  live,  albee  the  person  dye." 

xxix.  "  Indeed,"  then  said  the  Prince,  "  the  evill  donne 
Dyes  not,  when  breath  the  body  first  doth  leave; 
But  from  the  grandsyre  to  the  Xephewes  sonne, 
And  all  his  seede  the  curse  doth  often  cleave, 
Till  vengeaunce  utterly  the  guilt  bereave: 
So  streightly  God  doth  judge.     But  gentle  Knight, 
That  doth  against  the  dead  his  hand  upheave, 
His  honour  staines  with  rancour  and  despight, 
And  great  disparagment  makes  to  his  former  might." 

xxx.  Pyrochles  gan  reply  the  second  tyme, 

And  to  him  said:   "  Now,  felon,  sure  I  read, 
How  that  thou  art  partaker  of  his  cryme: 

Book  II— Canto  VIII  263 

Therefore,  by  Termagaunt  thou  shalt  be  dead." 

With  that  his  hand,  more  sad  then  lomp  of  lead, 

Uplifting  high,  he  weened  with  Morddure, 

His  owen  good  sword  Morddure,  to  cleave  his  head. 

The  faithfull  Steele  such  treason  no'uld  endure, 

But,  swarving  from  the  marke,  his  Lordes  life  did  assure. 

xxxi.  Yet  was  the  force  so  furious  and  so  fell, 

That  horse  and  man  it  made  to  reele  asyde: 
Nath'lesse  the  Prince  would  not  forsake  his  sell, 
For  well  of  yore  he  learned  had  to  ryde, 
But  full  of  anger  fiersly  to  him  cryde; 
"  False  traitour!  miscreaunt!  thou  broken  hast 
The  law  of  armes  to  strike  foe  undefide: 
But  thou  thy  treasons  fruit,  I  hope,  shalt  taste 
Right  sowre,  and  feele  the  law  the  which  thou  hast 

xxxii.  With  that  his  balefull  speare  he  fiercely  bent 

Against  the  Pagans  brest,  and  therewith  thought 

His  cursed  life  out  of  her  lodge  have  rent; 

But  ere  the  point  arrived  where  it  ought, 

That  seven  fold  shield,  which  he  from  Guyon  brought, 

He  cast  between  to  ward  the  bitter  stownd: 

Through  all  those  foldes  the  steelehead  passage  wrought, 

And  through  his  shoulder  perst;  wherwith  to  ground 

He  groveling  fell,  all  gored  in  his  gushing  wound. 

xxxiii.  Which  when  his  brother  saw,  fraught  with  great  grief e 
And  wrath,  he  to  him  leaped  furiously, 
And  fowly  saide:   "  By  Mahoune,  cursed  thiefe, 
That  diref ull  stroke  thou  dearely  shalt  aby :  " 
Then,  hurling  up  his  harmefull  blade  on  hy, 
Smote  him  so  hugely  on  his  haughtie  crest, 
That  from  his  saddle  forced  him  to  fly; 
Els  mote  it  needes  downe  to  his  manly  brest 
Have  cleft  his  head  in  twaine,  and  life  thence  dispossest. 

xxxiv.  Now  was  the  Prince  in  daungerous  distresse, 

Wanting  his  sword  when  he  on  foot  should  fight: 
His  single  speare  could  doe  him  small  redresse 
Against  two  foes  of  so  exceeding  might, 
The  least  of  which  was  match  for  any  knight. 
And  now  the  other,  whom  he  earst  did  daunt, 

264  The  Faerie  Queene 

Had  reard  him  selfe  againe  to  cruel  fight 
Three  times  more  furious  and  more  puissaunt, 
Unmindfull  of  his  wound,  of  his  fate  ignoraunt. 

xxxv.  So  both  attonce  him  charge  on  either  syde 
With  hideous  strokes  and  importable  powre, 
That  forced  him  his  ground  to  traverse  wyde, 
And  wisely  watch  to  ward  that  deadly  stowre ; 
For  in  his  shield,  as  thicke  as  stormie  showre, 
Their  strokes  did  raine:  yet  did  he  never  quaile, 
Ne  backward  shrinke,  but  as  a  stedfast  towre, 
Whom  foe  with  double  battry  doth  assaile, 
Them  on  her  bulwarke  beares,  and  bids  them  nought 

xxxvi.  So  stoutly  he  withstood  their  strong  assay ; 
Till  that  at  last,  when  he  advantage  spyde, 
His  poynant  speare  he  thrust  with  puissant  sway 
At  proud  Cymochles,  whiles  his  shield  was  wyde, 
That  through  his  thigh  the  mortall  Steele  did  gryde : 
He,  swarving  with  the  force,  within  his  flesh 
Did  breake  the  launce,  and  let  the  head  abyde. 
Out  of  the  wound  the  red  blood  flowed  fresh, 
That  underneath  his  feet  soone  made  a  purple  plesh. 

xxxvii.  Horribly  then  he  gan  to  rage  and  rayle, 

Cursing  his  Gods,  and  him  selfe  damning  deeper 
Als  when  his  brother  saw  the  red  blood  rayle 
Adowne  so  fast,  and  all  his  armour  steepe, 
For  very  felnesse  lowd  he  gan  to  weepe, 
And  said;   "  Caytive,  curse  on  thy  cruell  hond, 
That  twise  hath  spedd ;  yet  shall  it  not  thee  keepe 
From  the  third  brunt  of  this  my  f atall  brond : 
Lo !  where  the  dreadfull  Death  behynd  thy  backe  doth 

xxxvin.  With  that  he  strooke,  and  thother  strooke  withall, 
That  nothing  seemd  mote  beare  so  monstrous  might  : 
The  one  upon  his  covered  shield  did  fall, 
And  glauncing  downe  would  not  his  owner  byte; 
But  thother  did  upon  his  troncheon  smyte, 
Which  hewing  quite  asunder,  further  way 
It  made,  and  on  his  hacqueton  did  lyte, 

Book  11 — Canto  VIII  265 

The  which  dividing  with  importune  sway, 

It  seized  in  his  right  side,  and  there  the  dint  did  stay. 

xxxix.  Wyde  was  the  wound,  and  a  large  lukewarme  flood, 
Red  as  the  Rose,  thence  gushed  grievously; 
That  when  the  Paynym  spyde  the  streaming  blood, 
Gave  him  great  hart  and  hope  of  victory. 
On  th'  other  side,  in  huge  perplexity 
The  Prince  now  stood,  having  his  weapon  broke; 
Nought  could  he  hurt,  but  still  at  warde  did  ly : 
Yet  with  his  troncheon  he  so  rudely  stroke 
Cymochles  twise,  that  twise  him  forst  his  foot  revoke. 

xl.  Whom  when  the  Palmer  saw  in  such  distresse, 
Sir  Guyon's  sword  he  lightly  to  him  raught, 
And  said;    "  Fay  re  Sonne,  great  God  thy  right  hand 

To  use  that  sword  so  well  as  he  it  ought !  " 
Glad  was  the  knight,  and  with  fresh  courage  fraught, 
When  as  againe  he  armed  felt  his  hond : 
Then  like  a  Lyon,  which  hath  long  time  saught 
His  robbed  whelpes,  and  at  the  last  them  fond 
Emongst  the  shepeheard  swaynes,  then  wexeth  wood 

and  yond : 

xli.  So  fierce  he  laid  about  him,  and  dealt  blowes 
On  either  side,  that  neither  mayle  could  hold, 
Ne  shield  defend  the  thunder  of  his  throwes: 
Now  to  Pyrochles  many  strokes  he  told; 
Eft  to  Cymochles  twise  so  many  fold ; 
Then,  backe  againe  turning  his  busie  hond, 
Them  both  atonce  compeld  with  courage  bold 
To  yield  wide  way  to  his  hart-thrilling  brond ; 
And  though  they  both  stood  stifle,  yet  could  not  both 

xlii.  As  salvage  Bull,  whom  two  fierce  mastives  bayt, 
When  rancour  doth  with  rage  him  once  ^ngore, 
Forgets  with  wary  warde  them  to  awayt, 
But  with  his  dreadfull  homes  them  drives  afore, 
Or  flings  aloft,  or  treades  downe  in  the  flore, 
Beathing  out  wrath,  and  bellowing  disdaine, 
That  all  the  forest  quakes  to  heare  him  rore : 

266  The  Faerie  Queene 

So  rag'd  Prince  Arthur  twixt  his  foemen  twaine, 
That  neither  could  his  mightie  puissaunce  sustaine. 

xliii.  But  ever  at  Pyrochles  when  he  smitt, 

(Who  Guyons  shield  cast  ever  him  before, 
Whereon  the  Faery  Queenes  pourtract  was  writt,) 
His  hand  relented  and  the  stroke  forbore, 
And  his  deare  hart  the  picture  gan  adore; 
Which  oft  the  Paynim  sav'd  from  deadly  stowre : 
But  him  henceforth  the  same  can  save  no  more ; 
For  now  arrived  is  his  fatall  howre, 
That  no'te  avoyded  be  by  earthly  skill  or  powre. 

xliv.  For  when  Cymochles  saw  the  fowle  reproch, 

Which  them  appeached,  prickt  with  guiltie  shame 

And  inward  griefe,  he  fiercely  gan  approch, 

Resolv'd  to  put  away  that  loathly  blame, 

Or  dye  with  honour  and  desert  of  fame ; 

And  on  the  haubergh  stroke  the  Prince  so  sore, 

That  quite  disparted  all  the  linked  frame, 

And  pierced  to  the  skin,  but  bit  no  more ; 

Yet  made  him  twise  to  reele,  that  never  moov'd  afore. 

xlv.  Whereat  renfierst  with  wrath  and  sharp  regret, 
He  stroke  so  hugely  with  his  borrowd  blade, 
That  it  empierst  the  Pagans  burganet; 
And,  cleaving  the  hard  Steele,  did  deepe  invade 
Into  his  head,  and  cruell  passage  made 
Quite  through  his  brayne.     He,  tombling  downe  on 

Breathd  out  his  ghost,  which,  to  th'  infernall  shade 
Fast  flying,  there  eternall  torment  found 
For  all  the  sinnes  wherewith  his  lewd  life  did  abound. 

XL vi.  Which  when  his  german  saw,  the  stony  feare 
Ran  to  his  hart,  and  all  his  sence  dismayd, 
Ne  thenceforth  life  ne  corage  did  appeare ; 
But  as  a  man  whom  hellish  feendes  have  frayd, 
Long  trembling  still  he  stoode :  at  last  thus  sayd ; 
"  Tray  tour,  what  hast  thou  doen?     How  ever  may 
Thy  cursed  hand  so  cruelly  have  swayd 
Against  that  knight !     Harrow  and  well  away ! 
After  so  wicked  deede  why  liv'st  thou  lenger  day?  " 

Book  II— Canto  VIII  267 

xlvii.  With  that  all  desperate,  as  loathing  light, 
And  with  revenge  desyring  soone  to  dye, 
Assembling  all  his  force  and  utmost  might, 
With  his  owne  swerd  he  fierce  at  him  did  flye, 
And  strooke,  and  foynd,  and  lasht  outrageously, 
Withouten  reason  or  regard.     Well  knew 
The  Prince,  with  pacience  and  sufferaunce  sly 
So  hasty  heat  soone  cooled  to  subdew: 
Tho,  when  this  breathlesse  woxe,  that  batteil  gan  renew. 

xlviii.  As  when  a  windy  tempest  bloweth  hye, 

That  nothing  may  withstand  his  stormy  stowre, 
The  clowdes,  as  thinges  affray d,  before  him  flye; 
But  all  so  soone  as  his  outrageous  powre 
Is  layd,  they  fiercely  then  begin  to  showre; 
And,  as  in  scorne  of  his  spent  stormy  spight, 
Now  all  attonce  their  malice  forth  do  poure : 
So  did  Prince  Arthur  beare  himselfe  in  fight, 
And  suffred  rash  Pyrochles  waste  his  ydle  might. 

xlix.  At  last,  when  as  the  Sarazin  perceiv'd 

How  that  straunge  sword  refusd  to  serve  his  neede, 
But  when  he  stroke  most  strong  the  dint  deceiv'd, 
He  flong  it  from  him;  and,  devoyd  of  dreed, 
Upon  him  lightly  leaping  without  heed 
Twixt  his  two  mighty  armes  engrasped  fast, 
Thinking  to  overthrowe  and  downe  him  tred : 
But  him  in  strength  and  skill  the  Prince  surpast, 
And  through  his  nimble  sleight  did  under  him  down  cast. 

L.  Nought  booted  it  the  Paynim  then  to  strive; 
For  as  a  Bittur  in  the  Eagles  clawe, 
That  may  not  hope  by  flight  to  scape  alive, 
Still  waytes  for  death  with  dread  and  trembling  aw; 
So  he,  now  subject  to  the  victours  law, 
Did  not  once  move,  nor  upward  cast  his  eye, 
For  vile  disdaine  and  rancour,  which  did  gnaw 
His  hart  in  twaine  with  sad  melancholy  ; 
As  one  that  loathed  life,  and  yet  despysd  to  dye. 

LI.  But  full  of  princely  bounty  and  great  mind, 
The  Conquerour  nought  cared  him  to  slay ; 
But  casting  wronges  and  all  revenge  behind, 

268  The  Faerie  Queene 

More  glory  thought  to  give  life  then  decay, 

And  sayd;  "  Paynim,  this  is  thy  dismall  day; 

Yet  if  thou  wilt  renounce  thy  miscreaunce, 

And  my  trew  liegeman  yield  thy  selfe  for  ay, 

Life  will  I  graunt  thee  for  thy  valiaunce, 

And  all  thy  wronges  will  wipe  out  of  my  sovenaunce.' 

lii.  "  Foole!  "  (sayd  the  Pagan)  "  I  thy  gift  defye. 
But  use  thy  fortune  as  it  doth  befall ; 
And  say,  that  I  not  overcome  doe  dye, 
But  in  despight  of  life  for  death  doe  call." 
Wroth  was  the  Prince,  and  sory  yet  withall, 
That  he  so  wilfully  refused  grace; 
Yet  sith  his  fate  so  cruelly  did  fall, 
His  shining  Helmet  he  gan  soone  unlace, 
And  left  his  headlesse  body  bleeding  all  the  place. 

liii.  By  this  Sir  Guy  on  from  his  traunce  awakt, 
Life  having  maystered  her  sencelesse  foe, 
And  looking  up,  whenas  his  shield  he  lakt 
And  sword  saw  not,  he  wexed  wondrous  woe; 
But  when  the  Palmer,  whom  he  long  ygoe 
Had  lost,  he  by  him  spyde,  right  glad  he  grew, 
And  saide;  "  Deare  sir,  whom  wandring  to  and  fro 
I  long  have  lackt,  I  joy  thy  face  to  vew: 
Firme  is  thy  faith,  whom  daunger  never  fro  me  drew. 

liv.  "  But  read,  what  wicked  hand  hath  robbed  mee 
Of  my  good  sword  and  shield?  "     The  Palmer,  glad 
With  so  fresh  hew  uprysing  him  to  see, 
Him  answered:   "  Fayre  sonne,  be  no  whit  sad 
For  want  of  weapons;  they  shall  soone  be  had." 
So  gan  he  to  discourse  the  whole  debate, 
Which  that  straunge  knight  for  him  sustained  had, 
And  those  two  Sarazins  confounded  late, 
Whose  carcases  on  ground  were  horribly  prostrate. 

lv.  Which  when  he  heard,  and  saw  the  tokens  trew, 
His  hart  with  great  affection  was  embayd, 
And  to  the  Prince,  bowing  with  reverence  dew 
As  to  the  patrone  of  his  life,  thus  sayd; 
"  My  Lord,  my  liege,  by  whose  most  gratious  ayd 
I  live  this  day,  and  see  my  foes  subdewd, 

Book  II— Canto  VIII  269 

What  may  suffice  to  be  for  meede  repayd 
Of  so  great  graces  as  ye  have  me  shewd, 
But  to  be  ever  bound  " 

lvi.  To  whom  the  Infant  thus;  "  Fayre  Sir,  what  need 
Good  turnes  be  counted  as  a  servile  bond 
To  bind  their  doers  to  receive  their  meed  ? 
Are  not  all  knightes  by  oath  bound  to  withstond 
Oppressours  powre  by  armes  and  puissant  hond  ? 
Suffise  that  I  have  done  my  dew  in  place." 
So  goodly  purpose  they  together  fond 
Of  kindnesse  and  of  courteous  aggrace; 
The  whiles  false  Archimage  and  Atin  fled  apace. 

270  The  Faerie  Queene 


The  house  of  Temperance,  in  which 
Doth  sober  Alma  dwell, 
Besiegd  of  many  foes,  whom  straung- 
er  knightes  to  flight  compelL 

I.  Of  all  Gods  workes  which  doe  this  worlde  adorne, 
There  is  no  one  more  faire  and  excellent 
Then  is  mans  body,  both  for  powre  and  forme, 
Whiles  it  is  kept  in  sober  government; 
But  none  then  it  more  fowle  and  indecent, 
Distempred  through  misrule  and  passions  bace; 
It  growes  a  Monster,  and  incontinent 
Doth  loose  his  dignity  and  native  grace: 
Behold,  who  list,  both  one  and  other  in  this  place* 

II.  After  the  Paynim  brethren  conquer'd  were, 
The  Briton  Prince  recovering  his  stolne  sword, 
And  Guyon  his  lost  shield,  they  both  yfere 
Forth  passed  on  their  way  in  fayre  accord, 
Till  him  the  Prince  with  gentle  court  did  bord: 
"  Sir  knight,  mote  I  of  you  this  court'sy  read, 
To  weet  why  on  your  shield,  so  goodly  scord, 
Beare  ye  the  picture  of  that  Ladies  head  ? 
Full  lively  is  the  semblaunt,  though  the  substance  dead." 

in.  "  Fayre  Sir,"  (sayd  he)  "  if  in  that  picture  dead 
Such  life  ye  read,  and  vertue  in  vaine  shew; 
What  mote  ye  weene,  if  the  trew  lively-head 
Of  that  most  glorious  visage  ye  did  vew : 
But  yf  the  beauty  of  her  mind  ye  knew, 
That  is,  her  bounty,  and  imperiall  powre, 
Thousand  times  fairer  than  her  mortall  hew, 
0 !  how  great  wonder  would  your  thoughts  devoure, 
And  infinite  desire  into  your  spirite  poure, 

iv.  "  Shee  is  the  mighty  Queene  of  Faery, 

Whose  faire  retraitt  I  in  my  shield  doe  beare ; 
Shee  is  the  flowre  of  grace  and  chastity 

Book  II — Canto  IX 

Throughout  the  world,  renowmed  far  and  neare, 
My  liefe,  my  liege,  my  Soveraine,  my  deare, 
Whose  glory  shineth  as  the  morning  starre, 
And  with  her  light  the  earth  enlumines  clearer 
Far  reach  her  mercies,  and  her  praises  farre, 
As  well  in  state  of  peace,  as  puissaunce  in  warre." 

v.  "  Thrise  happy  man,"  (said  then  the  Briton  knight) 
"  Whom  gracious  lott  and  thy  great  valiaunce 
Have  made  thee  soldier  of  that  Princesse  bright, 
Which  with  her  bounty  and  glad  countenaunce 
Doth  blesse  her  servaunts,  and  them  high  advaunce, 
How  may  straunge  knight  hope  ever  to  aspire, 
By  faithfull  service  and  meete  amenaunce, 
Unto  such  blisse  ?  sufficient  were  that  hire 
For  losse  of  thousand  lives,  to  die  at  her  desire." 

vi.  Said  Guyon,  "  Noble  Lord,  what  meed  so  great, 
Or  grace  of  earthly  Prince  so  soveraine, 
But  by  your  wondrous  worth  and  warlike  feat 
Ye  well  may  hope,  and  easely  attaine  ? 
But  were  your  will  her  sold  to  entertaine, 
And  numbred  be  mongst  knights  of  Maydenhed, 
Great  guerdon,  well  I  wote,  should  you  remaine, 
And  in  her  favor  high  bee  reckoned, 
As  Arthegall  and  Sophy  now  beene  honored." 

vii.  "  Certes,"  (then  said  the  Prince)  "  I  God  avow, 
That  sith  I  armes  and  knighthood  first  did  plight, 
My  whole  desire  hath  beene,  and  yet  is  now, 
To  serve  that  Queene  with  al  my  powre  and  might. 
Seven  times  the  Sunne,  with  his  lamp-burning  light, 
Hath  walkte  about  the  world,  and  I  no  lesse, 
Sith  of  that  Goddesse  I  have  sought  the  sight, 
Yet  no  where  can  her  find :  such  happinesse 
Heven  doth  to  me  envy,  and  fortune  favourlesse." 

vin.  "  Fortune,  the  foe  of  famous  chevisaunce, 

"  Seldom  "  (said  Guyon)  "  yields  to  vertue  aide, 
But  in  her  way  throwes  mischiefe  and  mischaunce, 
Whereby  her  course  is  stopt  and  passage  staid : 
But  you,  faire  Sir,  be  not  herewith  dismaid, 
But  constant  keepe  the  way  in  which  ye  stand; 


272  The  Faerie  Queene 

Which,  were  it  not  that  I  am  els  delaid 

With  hard  adventure  which  I  have  in  hand, 

I  labour  would  to  guide  you  through  al  Faery  land." 

ix.  "  Gramercy  Sir,"  said  he;  "  but  mote  I  weete 
What  straunge  adventure  doe  ye  now  pursew  ? 
Perhaps  my  succour  or  advizement  meete 
Mote  stead  you  much  your  purpose  to  subdew," 
Then  gan  Sir  Guyon  all  the  story  shew 
Of  false  Acrasia,  and  her  wicked  wiles  ; 
Which  to  avenge  the  Palmer  him  forth  drew 
From  Faery  court.     So  talked  they,  the  whiles 
They  wasted  had  much  way,  and  measurd  many  miles. 

x.  And  now  faire  Phcebus  gan  decline  in  haste 
His  weary  wagon  to  the  Westerne  vale, 
Whenas  they  spide  a  goodly  castle,  plaste 
Foreby  a  river  in  a  pleasaunt  dale; 
Which  choosing  for  that  evenings  hospitale, 
They  thither  marcht:  but  when  they  came  in  sight, 
And  from  their  sweaty  Coursers  did  avale, 
They  found  the  gates  fast  barred  long  ere  night, 
And  every  loup  fast  lockt,  as  fearing  foes  despight. 

xi.  Which  when  they  saw,  they  weened  fowle  reproch 
Was  to  them  doen,  their  entraunce  to  forestall, 
Till  that  the  Squire  gan  nigher  to  approch, 
And  wind  his  home  under  the  castle  wall, 
That  with  the  noise  it  shooke  as  it  would  fall. 
Eftsoones  forth  looked  from  the  highest  spire 
The  watch,  and  lowd  unto  the  knights  did  call, 
To  weete  what  they  so  rudely  did  require? 
Who  gently  answered,  They  entraunce  did  desire. 

xii.  "  Fly  fly,  good  knights,"  (said  he)  "  fly  fast  away, 
If  that  your  lives  ye  love,  as  meete  ye  should; 
Fly  fast,  and  save  your  selves  from  neare  decay; 
Here  may  ye  not  have  entraunce,  though  we  would  : 
We  would,  and  would  againe,  if  that  we  could; 
But  thousand  enemies  about  us  rave, 
And  with  long  siege  us  in  the  castle  hould. 
Seven  yeares  this  wize  they  us  besieged  have, 
And  many  good  knights  slaine  that  have  us  sought  to  save." 

Book  II — Canto  IX  273 

xiii.  Thus  as  he  spoke,  loe !  with  outragious  cry 

A  thousand  villeins  rownd  about  them  swarmd 
Out  of  the  rockes  and  caves  adjoyning  nye; 
Vile  caitive  wretches,  ragged,  rude,  deformd, 
All  threatning  death,  all  in  straunge  manner  armd; 
Some  with  unweldy  clubs,  some  with  long  speares, 
Some  rusty  knifes,  some  staves  in  fier  warmd : 
Sterne  was  their  looke;  like  wild  amazed  steares, 
Staring  with  hollow  eies,  and  stiffe  upstanding  heares, 

xiv.  Fiersly  at  first  those  knights  they  did  assayle, 
And  drove  them  to  recoile;  but  when  againe 
They  gave  fresh  charge,  their  forces  gan  to  fayle, 
Unliable  their  encounter  to  sustaine; 
For  with  such  puissaunce  and  impetuous  maine 
Those  Champions  broke  on  them,  that  forst  them  fly, 
Like  scattered  Sheepe,  whenas  the  Shepherds  swaine 
A  Lyon  and  a  Tigre  doth  espye, 
With  greedy  pace  forth  rushing  from  the  forest  nye. 

xv.  A  while  they  fled,  but  soone  retournd  againe 
With  greater  fury  then  before  was  fownd; 
And  evermore  their  cruell  Capitaine 
Sought  with  his  raskall  routs  t'  enclose  them  rownd, 
And,  overronne,  to  tread  them  to  the  grownd : 
But  soone  the  knights  with  their  bright  burning  blades 
Broke  their  rude  troupes,  and  orders  did  confownd, 
Hewing  and  slashing  at  their  idle  shades ; 
For  though  they  bodies  seem,  yet  substaunce  from 
them  fades. 

xvi.  As  when  a  swarme  of  Gnats  at  eventide 
Out  of  the  fennes  of  Allan  doe  arise, 
Their  murmuring  small  trompetts  sownden  wide, 
Whiles  in  the  aire  their  clustring  army  flies, 
That  as  a  cloud  doth  seeme  to  dim  the  skies; 
Ne  man  nor  beast  may  rest,  or  take  repast 
For  their  sharpe  wounds  and  noyous  injuries, 
Till  the  fierce  Northerne  wind  with  blustring  blast 
Doth  blow  them  quite  away,  and  in  the  Ocean  cast. 

xvii.  Thus  when  they  had  that  troublous  rout  disperst, 
Unto  the  castle  gate  they  come  againe, 
And  entraunce  crav'd  which  was  denied  erst. 

274  The  Faerie  Queene 

Now  when  report  of  that  their  perlous  paine, 

And  combrous  conflict  which  they  did  sustaine, 

Came  to  the  Ladies  eare  which  there  did  dwell, 

Shee  forth  issewed  with  a  goodly  traine 

Of  Squires  and  Ladies  equipaged  well, 

And  entertained  them  right  fairely,  as  befell. 

xviii.  Alma  she  called  was;  a  virgin  bright, 

That  had  not  yet  felt  Cupides  wanton  rage; 
Yet  was  shee  woo'd  of  many  a  gentle  knight, 
And  many  a  Lord  of  noble  parentage, 
That  sought  with  her  to  lincke  in  marriage : 
For  shee  was  faire  as  faire  mote  ever  bee, 
And  in  the  flowre  now  of  her  freshest  age; 
Yet  full  of  grace  and  goodly  modestee, 
That  even  heven  rejoyced  her  sweete  face  to  see. 

xix.  In  robe  of  lilly  white  she  was  arayd, 

That  from  her  shoulder  to  her  heele  downe  raught; 
The  traine  whereof  loose  far  behind  her  strayd, 
Braunched  with  gold  and  perle  most  richly  wrought, 
And  borne  of  two  faire  Damsels  which  were  taught 
That  service  well.     Her  yellow  golden  heare 
Was  trimly  woven  and  in  tresses  wrought, 
Ne  other  tire  she  on  her  head  did  weare, 
But  crowned  with  a  garland  of  sweete  Rosiere. 

xx.  Goodly  shee  entertaind  those  noble  knights, 
And  brought  them  up  into  her  castle  hall; 
Where  gentle  court  and  gracious  delight 
Shee  to  them  made,  with  mildnesse  virginall, 
Shewing  her  selfe  both  wise  and  liberall. 
Then,  when  they  rested  had  a  season  dew, 
They  her  besought  of  favour  speciall 
Of  that  faire  Castle  to  affoord  them  vew: 
Shee  graunted ;  and,  them  leading  forth,  the  same  did  shew. 

xxi.  First  she  them  lead  up  to  the  Castle  wall, 
That  was  so  high  as  foe  might  not  it  clime, 
And  all  so  faire  and  fensible  withall; 
Not  built  of  bricke,  ne  yet  of  stone  and  lime, 
But  of  thing  like  to  that  ^Egyptian  slime, 
Whereof  king  Nine  whilome  built  Babell  towre. 

Book  II — Canto  IX  275 

But  O  great  pitty !  that  no  lenger  time 

So  goodly  workemanship  should  not  endure: 

Soone  it  must  turne  to  earth;  no  earthly  thing  is  sure. 

xxii.  The  frame  thereof  seemd  partly  circulare, 
And  part  triangulare ;  0  worke  divine ! 
Those  two  the  first  and  last  proportions  are; 
The  one  imperfect,  mortall,  fceminine, 
Th'  other  immortall,  perfect,  masculine; 
And  twixt  them  both  a  quadrate  was  the  base 
Proportiond  equally  by  seven  and  nine ; 
Nine  was  the  circle  sett  in  heavens  place: 
All  which  compacted  made  a  goodly  Diapase. 

xxiii.  Therein  two  gates  were  placed  seemly  well: 
The  one  before,  by  which  all  in  did  pas, 
Did  th'  other  far  in  workmanship  excell; 
For  not  of  wood,  nor  of  enduring  bras, 
But  of  more  worthy  substance  fram'd  it  was: 
Doubly  disparted,  it  did  locke  and  close, 
That  when  it  locked  none  might  thorough  pas, 
And  when  it  opened,  no  man  might  it  close, 
Still  open  to  their  friendes,  and  closed  to  their  foes. 

xxiv.  Of  hewen  stone  the  porch  was  fayrely  wrought, 
Stone  more  of  valew,  and  more  smooth  and  fine, 
Then  Jett  or  Marble  far  from  Ireland  brought; 
Over  the  which  was  cast  a  wandring  vine, 
Enchaced  with  a  wanton  yvie  twine; 
And  over  it  a  fayre  Portcullis  hong, 
Which  to  the  gate  directly  did  incline 
With  comely  compasse  and  compacture  strong, 
Nether  unseemly  short,  nor  yet  exceeding  long. 

xxv.  Within  the  Barbican  a  Porter  sate, 

Day  and  night  duely  keeping  watch  and  ward ; 
Nor  wight  nor  word  mote  passe  out  of  the  gate, 
But  in  good  order,  and  with  dew  regard ; 
Utterers  of  secrets  he  from  thence  debard, 
Bablers  of  folly,  and  blazers  of  cryme : 
His  larumbell  might  lowd  and  wyde  be  hard 
When  cause  requyrd,  but  never  out  of  time ; 
Early  and  late  it  rong,  at  evening  and  at  prime. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  And  rownd  about  the  porch  on  every  syde 

Twise  sixteene  warders  satt,  all  armed  bright 

In  glistring  Steele,  and  strongly  fortifyde : 

Tall  yeomen  seemed  they  and  of  great  might, 

And  were  enraunged  ready  still  for  fight. 

By  them  as  Alma  passed  with  her  guestes, 

They  did  obeysaunce,  as  beseemed  right, 

And  then  againe  retourned  to  their  restes : 

The  Porter  eke  to  her  did  lout  with  humble  gestes. 

xxvii.  Thence  she  them  brought  into  a  stately  Hall, 
Wherein  were  many  tables  fayre  dispred, 
And  ready  dight  with  drapets  festivall, 
Against  the  viaundes  should  be  ministred. 
At  th'  upper  end  there  sate,  yclad  in  red 
Downe  to  the  ground,  a  comely  personage, 
That  in  his  hand  a  white  rod  menaged: 
He  Steward  was,  hight  Diet;  rype  of  age, 
And  in  demeanure  sober,  and  in  counsell  sage. 

xxviii.  And  through  the  Hall  there  walked  to  and  fro 
A  jolly  yeoman,  Marshall  of  the  same, 
Whose  name  was  Appetite:   he  did  bestow 
Both  guestes  and  meate,  when  ever  in  they  came, 
And  knew  them  how  to  order  without  blame, 
As  him  the  Steward  badd.     They  both  attone 
Did  dewty  to  their  Lady,  as  became; 
Who,  passing  by,  forth  ledd  her  guestes  anone 
Into  the  kitchen  rowme,  ne  spard  for  nicenesse  none. 

xxix.  It  was  a  vaut  ybuilt  for  great  dispence, 
With  many  raunges  reard  along  the  wall, 
And  one  great  chimney,  whose  long  tonnell  thence 
The  smoke  forth  threw.     And  in  the  midst  of  all 
There  placed  was  a  caudron  wide  and  tall 
Upon  a  mightie  fornace,  burning  whott, 
More  whott  then  Aetn',  or  flaming  Mongiball 
For  day  and  night  it  brent,  ne  ceased  not, 
So  long  as  any  thing  it  in  the  caudron  gott. 

xxx.  But  to  delay  the  heat,  least  by  mischaunce 

It  might  breake  out  and  sett  the  whole  on  fyre, 
There  added  was  by  goodly  ordinaunce 

Book  II — Canto  IX  277 

An  huge  great  payre  of  bellowes,  which  did  styre 

Continually,  and  cooling  breath  inspyre. 

About  the  Caudron  many  Cookes  accoyld 

With  hookes  and  ladles,  as  need  did  requyre; 

The  whyles  the  viaundes  in  the  vessell  boyld 

They  did  about  their  businesse  sweat,  and  sorely  toyld. 

xxxi.  The  maister  Cooke  was  cald  Concoction; 
A  carefull  man,  and  full  of  comely  guyse. 
The  kitchin  clerke,  that  hight  Digestion, 
Did  order  all  th'  Achates  in  seemely  wise, 
And  set  them  forth,  as  well  he  could  devise. 
The  rest  had  severall  offices  assynd; 
Some  to  remove  the  scum  as  it  did  rise; 
Others  to  beare  the  same  away  did  mynd ; 
And  others  it  to  use  according  to  his  kynd. 

xxxii.  But  all  the  liquour,  which  was  fowle  and  waste, 
Not  good  nor  serviceable  elles  for  ought, 
They  in  another  great  rownd  vessell  plaste, 
Till  by  a  conduit  pipe  it  thence  were  brought: 
And  all  the  rest,  that  noyous  was  and  nought, 
By  secret  wayes,  that  none  might  it  espy, 
Was  close  convaid,  and  to  the  backgate  brought, 
That  cleped  was  Port  Esquiline,  whereby 
It  was  avoided  quite,  and  throwne  out  privily. 

xxxiii.  Which  goodly  order  and  great  workmans  skill 

Whenas  those  knightes  beheld,  with  rare  delight 

And  gazing  wonder  they  their  mindes  did  fill ; 

For  never  had  they  seene  so  straunge  a  sight. 

Thence  backe  againe  faire  Alma  led  them  right, 

And  soone  into  a  goodly  Parlour  brought, 

That  was  with  royall  arras  richly  dight, 

In  which  was  nothing  pourtrahed  nor  wrought*, 

Not  wrought  nor  pourtrahed,  but  easie  to  be  thought. 

xxxi  v.  And  in  the  midst  thereof  upon  the  floure 
A  lovely  bevy  of  faire  Ladies  sate, 
Courted  of  many  a  jolly  Paramoure, 
The  which  them  did  in  modest  wise  amate, 
And  each  one  sought  his  Lady  to  aggrate : 
And  eke  emongst  them  litle  Cupid  playd 

278  The  Faerie  Queene 

His  wanton  sportes,  being  retourned  late 

From  his  fierce  warres,  and  having  from  him  layd 

His  cruel  bow,  wherewith  he  thousands  hath  dismay d. 

xxxv.  Diverse  delights  they  fownd  them  selves  to  please; 
Some  song  in  sweet  consort;  some  laught  for  joy; 
Some  plaid  with  strawes ;  some  ydly  satt  at  ease ; 
But  other  some  could  not  abide  to  toy ; 
All  pleasaunce  was  to  them  grief e  and  annoy: 
This  fround,  that  faund,  the  third  for  shame  did  blush, 
Another  seemd  envious  or  coy, 
Another  in  her  teeth  did  gnaw  a  rush ; 
But  at  these  straungers  presence  every  one  did  hush. 

xxxvi.  Soone  as  the  gracious  Alma  came  in  place, 
They  all  attonce  out  of  their  seates  arose, 
And  to  her  homage  made  with  humble  grace : 
Whom  when  the  knights  beheld,  they  gan  dispose 
Themselves  to  court,  and  each  a  damzell  chose. 
The  Prince  by  chaunce  did  on  a  Lady  light, 
That  was  right  faire  and  fresh  as  morning  rose, 
But  somwhat  sad  and  solemne  eke  in  sight, 
As  if  some  pensive  thought  constraind  her  gentle  spright. 

xxxvn.  In  a  long  purple  pall,  whose  skirt  with  gold 
Was  fretted  all  about,  she  was  arayd  ; 
And  in  her  hand  a  Poplar  braunch  did  hold : 
To  whom  the  Prince  in  courteous  maner  sayd  ; 
"  Gentle  Madame,  why  beene  ye  thus  dismayd, 
And  your  faire  beautie  doe  with  sadnes  spill? 
Lives  any  that  you  hath  thus  ill  apayd  ? 
Or  doen  you  love  ?  or  doen  you  lack  your  will  ? 
What  ever  bee  the  cause,  it  sure  beseemes  you  ill." 

xxxvin.  "  Fayre  Sir,"  said  she,  halfe  in  disdaineful  wise, 
"  How  is  it  that  this  mood  in  me  ye  blame, 
And  in  your  self e  doe  not  the  same  advise  ? 
Him  ill  beseemes  anothers  fault  to  name, 
That  may  unwares  bee  blotted  with  the  same : 
Pensive  I  yeeld  I  am,  and  sad  in  mind, 
Through  great  desire  of  glory  and  of  fame ; 
Ne  ought,  I  weene,  are  ye  therein  behynd, 
That  have  three  years  sought  one,  yet  no  where  can  her 

Book  II — Canto  IX  279 

xxxix.  The  Prince  was  inly  moved  at  her  speach, 

Well  weeting  trew  what  she  had  rashly  told ; 

Yet  with  faire  semblaunt  sought  to  hyde  the  breach, 

Which  chaunge  of  colour  did  perforce  unfold, 

Now  seeming  flaming  whott,  now  stony  cold: 

Tho,  turning  soft  aside,  he  did  inquyre 

What  wight  she  was  that  Poplar  braunch  did  hold  ? 

It  answered  was,  her  name  was  Prays-desire, 

That  by  well  doing  sought  to  honour  to  aspyre. 

xl.  The  whyles  the  Faery  knight  did  entertayne 
Another  Damsell  of  that  gentle  crew, 
That  was  right  fayre  and  modest  of  demayne, 
But  that  too  oft  she  chaung'd  her  native  hew. 
Straunge  was  her  tyre,  and  all  her  garment  blew, 
Close  rownd  about  her  tuckt  with  many  a  plight: 
Upon  her  fist  the  bird,  which  shonneth  vew, 
And  keepes  in  coverts  close  from  living  wight, 
Did  sitt,  as  yet  ashamed  how  rude  Pan  did  her  dight. 

xli.  So  long  as  Guyon  with  her  commoned, 
Unto  the  grovvnd  she  cast  her  modest  eye, 
And  ever  and  anone  with  rosy  red 
The  bashfull  blood  her  snowy  cheekes  did  dye, 
That  her  became,  as  polisht  yvory 
Which  cunning  Craftesman  hand  hath  overlayd 
With  fayre  vermilion  or  pure  Castory. 
Great  wonder  had  the  knight  to  see  the  mayd 
So  straungely  passioned,  and  to  her  gently  said : 

xlii.  "  Fayre  Damzell,  seemeth  by  your  troubled  cheare, 
That  either  me  too  bold  ye  weene,  this  wise 
You  to  molest,  or  other  ill  to  feare 
That  in  the  secret  of  your  hart  close  lyes, 
From  whence  it  doth,  as  cloud  from  sea,  aryse* 
If  it  be  I,  of  pardon  I  you  pray ; 
But  if  ought  else  that  I  mote  not  devyse, 
I  will,  if  please  you  it  discure,  assay 
To  ease  you  of  that  ill,  so  wisely  as  I  may." 

xliii.  She  answerd  nought,  but  more  abasht  for  shame 
Held  downe  her  head,  the  whiles  her  lovely  face 
The  flashing  blood  with  blushing  did  inflame, 

280  Trie  Ficrie  Quoenc 

And  the  strong  passion  mard  her  modest  grace, 

That  Guyon  mervayld  at  her  uncouth  cace ; 

Till  Alma  him  bespake :       Why  wonder  yee, 

7  aire  Sir.  at  that  which  ye  so  much  embrace  ? 

5r_e  is  the  :::rt/vlr_e  ::  your  mtdestee: 

You  shamefast  are.  but  Shamefastnes  it  selfe  is  sliee." 

xijv.  Thereat  the  Elfe  did  bhish  in  privitee, 

And  7_rr.e:  his  :a:e  a.  way-.  ':  1:  she  the  sarr.e 
Dissembled  faire,  and  farad  to  oversee. 
Thus  they  awhile  with  court  and  goodly  game 
Themselves  did  solace  each  one  with  his  Dame, 
Till  that  great  Lady  thence  away  them  sought 
To  vew  ties  other  wondrous  frame: 

Up  to  a  Turret  she  therr  brzug'r.t. 

Like  highest  heaver  —trapsed  -—d. 

I  it  rot  on  ground  mote  like  to  this  be  found: 
that,  which  antique  Cadmus  whylome  built 

Ir  Z'^zzs.  wh.i:h  Alexarde:  did  torio-arrd : 

Nor  that  proud  towre  of  Troy,  though  richly  guilt, 

From  which  young  Hectors  blood  D3T  cruel!  Greek  7  - 

XL  VI. 

res  s t e ; .  :. 

7  r  they  of  living  fire  most  s 

Were  7:.?.. ir.  art:  set  ir.  silver  s:  ikers  brirht. 

CoverM  with  lids  fcviz'd    :  substance  sly, 

That  readily  they  shut  and  open  might. " 

1     who  can  tell  the  prayses  of  that  makers  might? 

xxvn.  Ne  can  I  tell,  ne  can  I  stay  to  tell, 

This  parts  great  workemanship  and  wondrous  powre, 
That  all  this  other  worldes  worke  doth  excell, 
And  Hkest  is  unto  that  heavenly  towre 
That  God  hath  built  for  his  owne  blessed  bowic 
Thereir:  were  livers  ::■:;:;    art:  livers  s: .  _■ 

Book  II — Canto  IX  281 

But  three  the  chiefest  and  of  greatest  powre, 
In  which  there  dwelt  three  honorable  sages, 
The  wisest  men,  I  weene,  that  lived  in  their  ages. 

xlviii.  Not  he,  whom  Greece,  the  Nourse  of  all  good  arts, 
By  Phcebus  doome  the  wisest  thought  alive, 
Might  be  compar'd  to  these  by  many  parts: 
Nor  that  sage  Pylian  syre,  which  did  survive 
Three  ages,  such  as  mortall  men  contrive, 
By  whose  advise  old  Priams  citie  fell, 
With  these  in  praise  of  pollicies  mote  strive. 
These  three  in  these  three  rowmes  did  sondry  dwell, 
And  counselled  faire  Alma  how  to  governe  well, 

xlix.  The  first  of  them  could  things  to  come  foresee ; 
The  next  could  of  thinges  present  best  advize ; 
The  third  things  past  could  keep  in  memoree: 
So  that  no  time  nor  reason  could  arize, 
But  that  the  same  could  one  of  these  comprize. 
For-thy  the  first  did  in  the  forepart  sit, 
That  nought  mote  hinder  his  quicke  prejudize: 
He  had  a  sharpe  foresight  and  working  wit 
That  never  idle  was,  ne  once  would  rest  a  whit. 

L.  His  chamber  was  dispainted  all  within 
With  sondry  colours,  in  the  which  were  writ 
Infinite  shapes  of  thinges  dispersed  thin ; 
Some  such  as  in  the  world  were  never  yit, 
Ne  can  devized  be  of  mortall  wit; 
Some  daily  seene  and  knowen  by  their  names, 
Such  as  in  idle  fantasies  do  flit; 
Infernall  Hags,  Centaurs,  feendes,  Hippodames, 
Apes,  Lyons,  Aegles,  Owles,  f  ooles,  lovers,  children,  Dames. 

li.  And  all  the  chamber  filled  was  with  fly es 

Which  buzzed  all  about,  and  made  such  sound 
That  they  encombred  all  mens  eares  and  eyes  ; 
Like  many  swarmes  of  Bees  assembled  round, 
After  their  hives  with  honny  do  abound. 
All  those  were  idle  thoughtes  and  fantasies, 
Devices,  dreames,  opinions  unsound, 
Shewes,  visions,  sooth-sayes,  and  prophesies ; 
And  all  that  fained  is,  as  leasings,  tales,  and  lies. 

282  The  Faerie  Queene 

lii.  Emongst  them  all  sate  he  which  wonned  there, 
That  hight  Phantastes  by  his  nature  trew; 
A  man  of  yeares  yet  fresh,  as  mote  appere, 
Of  swarth  complexion,  and  of  crabbed  hew, 
That  him  full  of  melancholy  did  shew; 
Bent  hollow  beetle  browes,  sharpe  staring  eyes, 
That  mad  or  foolish  seemd :  one  by  his  vew 
Mote  deeme  him  borne  with  ill-disposed  skyes, 
When  oblique  Saturne  sate  in  th'  house  of  agonyes. 

liii.  Whom  Alma  having  shewed  to  her  guestes, 

Thence  brought  them  to  the  second  rowme,  whose  wals 

Were  painted  faire  with  memorable  gestes 

Of  famous  Wisards;  and  with  picturals 

Of  Magistrates,  of  courts,  of  tribunals, 

Of  commen-wealthes,  of  states,  of  pollicy, 

Of  lawes,  of  judgementes,  and  of  decretals, 

All  artes,  all  science,  all  Philosophy, 

And  all  that  in  the  world  was  ay  thought  wittily. 

liv.  Of  those  that  rowme  was  full ;  and  them  among 
There  sate  a  man  of  ripe  and  perfect  age, 
Who  did  them  meditate  all  his  life  long, 
That  through  continuall  practise  and  usage 
He  now  was  growne  right  wise  and  wondrous  sage : 
Great  pleasure  had  those  straunger  knightes  to  see 
His  goodly  reason  and  grave  personage, 
That  his  disciples  both  desyrd  to  bee; 
But  Alma  thence  them  led  to  th'  hindmost  rowme  of  three. 

lv.  That  chamber  seemed  ruinous  and  old, 
And  therefore  was  removed  far  behind, 
Yet  were  the  wals,  that  did  the  same  uphold, 
Right  firme  and  strong,  though  somewhat  they  declind; 
And  therein  sat  an  old  old  man,  halfe  blind, 
And  all  decrepit  in  his  feeble  corse, 
Yet  lively  vigour  rested  in  his  mind, 
And  recompenst  them  with  a  bitter  scorse: 
Weake  body  wel  is  chang'd  for  minds  redoubled  forse. 

lvi.  This  man  of  infinite  remembraunce  was, 

And  things  foregone  through  many  ages  held, 
Which  he  recorded  still  as  they  did  pas, 
Ne  suffred  them  to  perish  through  long  eld, 

Book  II — Canto  IX  283 

As  all  things  els  the  which  this  world  doth  weld; 
But  laid  them  up  in  his  immortall  serine, 
Where  they  for  ever  incorrupted  dweld : 
The  warres  he  well  remembred  of  king  Nine, 
Of  old  Assaracus,  and  Inachus  divine. 

lvii.  The  yeares  of  Nestor  nothing  were  to  his, 
Ne  yet  Mathusalem,  though  longest  liv'd; 
For  he  remembred  both  their  infancis  : 
Ne  wonder  then,  if  that  he  were  depriv'd 
Of  native  strength  now  that  he  them  surviv'd. 
His  chamber  all  was  hangd  about  with  rolls 
And  old  records  from  auncient  times  derivd, 
Some  made  in  books,  some  in  long  parchment  scrolls, 
That  were  all  worm-eaten  and  full  of  canker  holes. 

lviii.  Amidst  them  all  he  in  a  chaire  was  sett, 
Tossing  and  turning  them  withouten  end; 
But  for  he  was  unhable  them  to  fett, 
A  litle  boy  did  on  him  still  attend 
To  reach,  when  ever  he  for  ought  did  send ; 
And  oft  when  thinges  were  lost,  or  laid  amis, 
That  boy  them  sought  and  unto  him  did  lend : 
Therefore  he  Anamnestes  cleped  is; 
And  that  old  man  Eumnestes,  by  their  propertis. 

lix.  The  knightes  there  entring  did  him  reverence  dew, 
And  wondred  at  his  endlesse  exercise : 
Then  as  they  gan  his  Library  to  vew, 
And  antique  Regesters  for  to  avise, 
There  chaunced  to  the  Princes  hand  to  rize 
An  auncient  booke,  hight  Briton  moniments, 
That  of  this  lands  first  conquest  did  devize, 
And  old  division  into  Regiments, 
Till  it  reduced  was  to  one  mans  governements. 

lx.  Sir  Guyon  chaunst  eke  on  another  booke, 
That  hight  Antiquitee  of  Faery  lond  : 
In  which  whenas  he  greedily  did  looke, 
Th'  ofspring  of  Elves  and  Faeryes  there  he  fond, 
As  it  delivered  was  from  hond  to  hond : 
Whereat  they,  burning  both  with  fervent  fire 
Their  countreys  auncestry  to  understond, 
Crav'd  leave  of  Alma  and  that  aged  sire 
To  read  those  bookes;  who  glady  graunted  their  desire. 


The  Faerie  Queene 


A  chronicle  of  Briton  kings, 
From  Brute  to  Uthers  rayne ; 
And  rolls  of  Elfin  Emperours, 
Till  time  of  Gloriane. 

I.  Who  now  shall  give  unto  me  words  and  sound 
Equall  unto  this  haughty  enterprise  ? 
Or  who  shall  lend  me  wings,  with  which  from  ground 
My  lowly  verse  may  loftily  arise, 
And  lift  it  self e  unto  the  highest  skyes  ? 
More  ample  spirit  than  hitherto  was  wount 
Here  needes  me,  whiles  the  famous  auncestryes 
Of  my  most  dreaded  Soveraigne  I  recount, 
By  which  all  earthly  Princes  she  doth  far  surmount. 

11.  Ne  under  Sunne  that  shines  so  wide  and  faire, 
Whence  all  that  lives  does  borrow  life  and  light, 
Lives  ought  that  to  her  linage  may  compaire; 
WThich  though  from  earth  it  be  derived  right 
Yet  doth  it  selfe  stretch  forth  to  hevens  hight, 
And  all  the  world  with  wonder  overspred; 
A  labor  huge,  exceeding  far  my  might. 
How  shall  fraile  pen,  with  feare  disparaged, 
Conceive  such  soveraine  glory  and  great  bountyhed  ? 

in.  Argument  worthy  of  Maeonian  quill ; 
Or  rather  worthy  of  great  Phcebus  rote, 
Whereon  the  mines  of  great  Ossa  hill, 
And  triumphes  of  Phlegraean  Jove,  he  wrote, 
That  all  the  Gods  admird  his  lofty  note. 
But  if  some  relish  of  that  hevenly  lay 
His  learned  daughters  would  to  me  report 
To  decke  my  song  withall,  I  would  assay 
Thy  name,  0  soveraine  Queene !  to  blazon  far  away. 

iv.  Thy  name,  0  soveraine  Queene !  thy  realme,  and  race, 
From  this  renowmed  Prince  derived  arre. 
Who  mightily  upheld  that  royall  mace 

Book  II — Canto  X  285 

Which  now  thou  bear'st,  to  thee  descended  farre 
From  mighty  kings  and  conquerours  in  warre, 
Thy  fathers  and  great  Grandfathers  of  old, 
Whose  noble  deeds  above  the  Northern  starre 
Immortall  fame  for  over  hath  enrold ; 
As  in  that  old  mans  booke  they  were  in  order  told. 

v.  The  land  which  warlike  Britons  now  possesse, 
And  therein  have  their  mighty  empire  raysd, 
In  antique  times  was  salvage  wildernesse, 
Unpeopled,  unmannurd,  unprovd,  unpraysd; 
Ne  was  it  Island  then,  ne  was  it  paysd 
Amid  the  ocean  waves,  ne  was  it  sought 
Of  merchants  farre  for  profits  therein  praysd; 
But  was  all  desolate,  and  of  some  thought 
By  sea  to  have  been  from  the  Celticke  maynland  brought. 

vi.  Ne  did  it  then  deserve  a  name  to  have, 
Till  that  the  venturous  Mariner  that  way 
Learning  his  ship  from  those  white  rocks  to  save, 
Which  all  along  the  Southerne  sea-coast  lay 
Threatning  unheedy  wrecke  and  rash  decay, 
For  safety  that  same  his  sea-marke  made, 
And  named  it  Albion  :  But  later  day, 
Finding  in  it  fit  ports  for  fishers  trade, 
Gan  more  the  same  frequent,  and  further  to  invade* 

VII.  But  far  in  land  a  salvage  nation  dwelt 

Of  hideous  Giaunts,  and  halfe  beastly  men, 

That  never  tasted  grace,  nor  goodnes  felt; 

But  wild  like  beastes  lurking  in  loathsome  den, 

And  flying  fast  as  Roebucke  through  the  fen, 

All  naked  without  shame  or  care  of  cold, 

By  hunting  and  by  spoiling  liveden; 

Of  stature  huge,  and  eke  of  corage  bold, 

That  sonnes  of  men  amazd  their  sternnesse  to  behold. 

VIII.  But  whence  they  sprong,  or  how  they  were  begott, 
Uneath  is  to  assure;  uneath  to  wene 
That  monstrous  error,  which  doth  some  assott, 
That  Dioclesians  fifty  daughters  shene 
Into  this  land  by  chaunce  have  driven  bene; 
Where,  companing  with  feends  and  filthy  Sprights 

286  The  Faerie  Queene 

Through  vaine  illusion  of  their  lust  unclene, 

They  brought  forth  Geaunts,  and  such  dreadful  wights 

As  far  exceeded  men  in  their  immeasurd  mights, 

ix.  They  held  this  land,  and  with  their  filthinesse 
Polluted  this  same  gentle  soyle  long  time ; 
That  their  owne  mother  loathed  their  beastlinesse, 
And  gan  abhorre  her  broods  unkindly  crime, 
All  were  they  borne  of  her  owne  native  slime: 
Until  that  Brutus,  anciently  deriv'd 
From  roiall  stocke  of  old  Assaracs  line, 
Driven  by  fatall  error  here  arriv'd, 
And  them  of  their  unjust  possession  depriv'd, 

x.  But  ere  he  had  established  his  throne, 
And  spred  his  empire  to  the  utmost  shore, 
He  fought  great  batteils  with  his  salvage  fone ; 
In  which  he  them  defeated  evermore, 
And  many  Giaunts  left  on  groning  flore: 
That  well  can  witness  yet  unto  this  day 
The  westerne  Hogh,  besprincled  with  the  gore 
Of  mighty  Goemot,  whome  in  stout  fray 
Corineus  conquered,  and  cruelly  did  slay* 

XI.  And  eke  that  ample  Pitt,  yet  far  renownd 
For  the  large  leape  which  Debon  did  compell 
Coulin  to  make,  being  eight  lugs  of  grownd, 
Into  the  which  retourning  backe  he  fell: 
But  those  three  monstrous  stones  doe  most  excell, 
Which  that  huge  sonne  of  hideous  Albion, 
Whose  father  Hercules  in  Fraunce  did  quell, 
Great  Godmer  threw,  in  fierce  contention, 
At  bold  Canutus;  but  of  him  was  slaine  anon, 

xii.  In  meed  of  these  great  conquests  by  them  gott, 
Corineus  had  that  Province  utmost  west 
To  him  assigned  for  his  worthy  lott, 
Which  of  his  name  and  memorable  gest 
He  called  Cornwaile,  yet  so  called  best; 
And  Debons  shayre  was  that  is  Devonshyre: 
But  Canute  had  his  portion  from  the  rest, 
The  which  he  cald  Canutium,  for  his  hyre; 
Now  Cantium,  which  Kent  we  comenly  inquyre. 

Book  II — Canto  X  287 

xiii.  Thus  Brute  this  Realme  unto  his  rule  subdewd, 
And  raigned  long  in  great  felicity, 
Lov'd  of  his  freends,  and  of  his  foes  eschewd: 
He  left  three  sonnes,  his  famous  progeny, 
Borne  of  fayre  Inogene  of  Italy; 
Mongst  whom  he  parted  his  imperiall  state, 
And  Locrine  left  chiefe  Lord  of  Britany. 
At  last  ripe  age  bad  him  surrender  late 
His  life,  and  long  good  fortune,  unto  finall  fate. 

xiv.  Locrine  was  left  the  soveraine  Lord  of  all: 
But  Albanact  had  all  the  Northerne  part, 
Which  of  himself e  Albania  he  did  call; 
And  Camber  did  possesse  the  Westerne  quart. 
Which  Severne  now  from  Logris  doth  depart: 
And  each  his  portion  peaceably  enjoyed, 
Ne  was  there  outward  breach,  nor  grudge  in  hart, 
That  once  their  quiet  government  annoyd; 
But  each  his  paynes  to  others  profit  still  employd. 

xv.  Until  a  nation  straunge,  with  visage  swart, 
And  corage  fierce  that  all  men  did  affray, 
Which  through  the  world  then  swarmd  in  every  part, 
And  overflowd  all  countries  far  away, 
Like  Noyes  great  flood,  with  their  importune  sway, 
This  land  invaded  with  like  violence, 
And  did  themselves  through  all  the  North  display: 
Untill  that  Locrine  for  his  Realmes  defence, 
Did  head  against  them  make  and  strong  munificence. 

xvi.  He  them  encountred,  a  confused  rout, 

Foreby  the  River  that  whylome  was  hight 
The  ancient  Abus,  where  with  courage  stout 
He  them  defeated  in  victorious  fight, 
And  chaste  so  fiercely  after  fearefull  flight, 
That  forst  their  chiefetain,  for  his  safeties  sake, 
(Their  Chiefetain  Humber  named  was  aright,) 
Unto  the  mighty  streame  him  to  betake, 
Where  he  an  end  of  batteill  and  of  life  did  make. 

xvii.  The  king  retourned  proud  of  victory, 

And  insolent  wox  through  unwonted  ease, 
That  shortly  he  forgot  the  jeopardy, 

288  The  Faerie  Queene 

Which  in  his  land  he  lately  did  appease, 

And  fell  to  vaine  voluptuous  disease: 

He  lov'd  faire  Ladie  Estrild,  leudly  lov'd, 

Whose  wanton  pleasures  him  too  much  did  please, 

That  quite  his  hart  from  Guendolene  remov'd, 

From  Guendolene  his  wife,  though  alwaies  faithful  prov'd. 

xviii.  The  noble  daughter  of  Corineus 

Would  not  endure  to  bee  so  vile  disdaind, 

But,  gathering  force  and  corage  valorous, 

Encountred  him  in  batteill  well  ordaind, 

In  which  him  vanquisht  she  to  fly  constraind: 

But  she  so  fast  pursewd,  that  him  she  tooke 

And  threw  in  bands,  where  he  till  death  remaind ; 

Als  his  faire  Leman  flying  through  a  brooke 

She  overhent,  nought  moved  with  her  piteous  looke; 

xix.  But  both  her  selfe,  and  eke  her  daughter  deare, 
Begotten  by  her  kingly  Paramoure, 
The  faire  Sabrina,  almost  dead  with  feare, 
She  there  attached,  far  from  all  succoure; 
The  one  she  slew  upon  the  present  floure; 
But  the  sad  virgin,  innocent  of  all, 
Adowne  the  rolling  river  she  did  poure, 
Which  of  her  name  now  Severne  men  do  call : 
Such  was  the  end  that  to  disloyall  love  did  fall. 

xx.  Then  for  her  sonne,  which  she  to  Locrin  bore, 
Madan  was  young,  unmeet  the  rule  to  sway, 
In  her  owne  hand  the  crowne  she  kept  in  store, 
Till  ryper  years  he  raught  and  stronger  stay; 
During  which  time  her  powre  she  did  display 
Through  all  this  Realme,  the  glory  of  her  sex, 
And  first  taught  men  a  woman  to  obay: 
But,  when  her  sonne  to  mans  estate  did  wex, 
She  it  surrendred,  ne  her  selfe  would  lenger  vex. 

xxi.  Tho  Madan  raignd,  unworthie  of  his  race, 

For  with  all  shame  that  sacred  throne  he  fild. 
Next  Memprise,  as  unworthy  of  that  place; 
In  which  being  consorted  with  Manild, 
For  thrist  of  single  kingdom  him  he  kild. 
But  Ebranck  salved  both  their  infamies 

Book  II — Canto  X  289 

With  noble  deedes,  and  warreyd  on  Brunchild 

In  Henault,  where  yet  of  his  victories 

Brave  moniments  remaine,  which  yet  that  land  envies. 

xxii.  An  happy  man  in  his  first  dayes  he  was, 
And  happy  father  of  faire  progeny: 
For  all  so  many  weekes  as  the  yeare  has, 
So  many  children  he  did  multiply: 
Of  which  were  twentie  sonnes,  which  did  apply 
Their  mindes  to  prayse  and  chevalrous  desyre: 
Those  germans  did  subdew  all  Germany, 
Of  whom  it  hight;  but  in  the  end  their  Syre 
With  foule  repulse  from  Fraunce  was  forced  to  retyre* 

xxiii.  Which  blott  his  sonne  succeeding  in  his  seat, 
The  second  Brute,  the  second  both  in  name 
And  eke  in  semblaunce  of  his  puissaunce  great, 
Right  well  recur'd,  and  did  away  that  blame 
With  recompence  of  everlasting  fame: 
He  with  his  victour  sword  first  opened 
The  bowels  of  wide  Fraunce,  a  forlorne  Dame, 
And  taught  her  first  how  to  be  conquered ; 
Since  which,  with  sondrie  spoiles  she  hath  been  ransacked. 

xxiv.  Let  Scaldis  tell,  and  let  tell  Hania, 

And  let  the  marsh  of  Esthambruges  tell, 
What  colour  were  their  waters  that  same  day, 
And  all  the  moore  twixt  Elversham  and  Dell, 
With  blood  of  Henalois  which  therein  fell. 
How  oft  that  day  did  sad  Brunchildis  see 
The  greene  shield  dyde  in  dolorous  vermeil  ? 
That  not  Scuith  guiridh  it  mote  seeme  to  bee, 
But  rather  y  scuith  gogh,  signe  of  sad  crueltee. 

xxv.  His  sonne,  king  Leill,  by  fathers  labour  long, 
Enjoyd  an  heritage  of  lasting  peace, 
And  built  Cairleill,  and  built  Cairleon  strong. 
Next  Huddibras  his  realme  did  not  encrease, 
But  taught  the  land  from  wearie  wars  to  cease: 
Whose  footsteps  Bladud  following,  in  artes 
Exceld  at  Athens  all  the  learned  preace, 
From  whence  he  brought  them  to  these  salvage  parts, 
And  with  sweet  science  mollifide  their  stubborne  harts. 

290  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  Ensample  of  his  wondrous  faculty, 

Behold  the  boyling  bathes  at  Cairbadon, 

Which  seeth  with  secret  fire  eternally, 

And  in  their  entrailles,  full  of  quick  Brimston, 

Nourish  the  flames  which  they  are  warmd  upon, 

That  to  their  people  wealth  they  forth  do  well, 

And  health  to  every  forreyne  nation: 

Yet  he  at  last,  contending  to  excell 

The  reach  of  men,  through  flight  into  fond  mischief  fell 

xxvii.  Next  him  king  Leyr  in  happie  peace  long  raynd, 
But  had  no  issue  male  him  to  succeed, 
But  three  faire  daughters,  which  were  well  uptraind 
In  all  that  seemed  fitt  for  kingly  seed : 
Mongst  whom  his  realme  he  equally  decreed 
To  have  divided.     Tho,  when  feeble  age 
Nigh  to  his  utmost  date  he  saw  proceed, 
He  cald  his  daughters,  and  with  speeches  sage 
Inquyrd,  which  of  them  most  did  love  her  parentage  > 

xxviii.  The  eldest,  Gonorill,  gan  to  protest 

That  she  much  more  than  her  owne  life  him  lov'd; 

And  Regan  greater  love  to  him  profest 

Then  all  the  world,  when  ever  it  were  proov'd; 

But  Cordeill  said  she  lov'd  him  as  behoov'd: 

Whose  simple  answere,  wanting  colours  fayre 

To  paint  it  forth,  him  to  displeasaunce  moov'd, 

That  in  his  crown  he  counted  her  no  hayre, 

But  twixt  the  other  twain  his  kingdom  whole  did  shay  re  „ 

xxix.  So  wedded  th'  one  to  Maglan  king  of  Scottes, 
And  thother  to  the  king  of  Cambria, 
And  twixt  them  shayrd  his  realme  by  equall  lottes; 
But  without  dowre  the  wise  Cordelia 
Was  sent  to  Aggannip  of  Celtica. 
Their  aged  Syre,  thus  eased  of  his  crowne, 
A  private  life  ledd  in  Albania 
With  Gonorill,  long  had  in  great  renowne, 
That  nought  him  griev'd  to  beene  from  rule  deposed 

xxx.  But  true  it  is  that,  when  the  oyle  is  spent, 

The  light  goes  out,  and  weeke  is  throwne  away : 
So,  when  he  had  resignd  his  regiment, 

Book  II — Canto  X  291 

His  daughter  gan  despise  his  drouping  day, 

And  wearie  wax  of  his  continuall  stay. 

Tho  to  his  daughter  Regan  he  repayrd, 

Who  him  at  first  well  used  every  way; 

But  when  of  his  departure  she  despayrd, 

Her  bountie  she  abated,  and  his  cheare  empayrd. 

xxxi.  The  wretched  man  gan  then  avise  too  late, 
That  love  is  not  where  most  it  is  prof  est; 
Too  truely  tryde  in  his  extremest  state. 
At  last,  resolv'd  likewise  to  prove  the  rest, 
He  to  Cordelia  him  selfe  addrest, 
Who  with  entyre  affection  him  receav'd, 
As  for  her  Syre  and  king  her  seemed  best; 
And  after  all  an  army  strong  she  leav'd, 
To  war  on  those  which  him  had  of  his  realme  bereav'd. 

xxxii.  So  to  his  crowne  she  him  restord  againe; 

In  which  he  dyde,  made  ripe  for  death  by  eld, 
And  after  wild  it  should  to  her  remaine, 
Who  peaceably  the  same  long  time  did  weld, 
And  all  mens  harts  in  dew  obedience  held; 
Till  that  her  sisters  children,  woxen  strong, 
Through  proud  ambition  against  her  rebeld, 
And  overcommen  kept  in  prison  long, 
Till  weary  of  that  wretched  life  her  selfe  she  hong. 

xxxiii.  Then  gan  the  bloody  brethren  both  to  raine; 
But  fierce  Cundah  gan  shortly  to  envy 
His  brother  Morgan,  prickt  with  proud  disdaine 
To  have  a  pere  in  part  of  soverainty ; 
And  kindling  coles  of  cruell  enmity, 
Raisd  warre,  and  him  in  batteill  overthrew. 
Whence  as  he  to  those  woody  hilles  did  fly, 
Which  hight  of  him  Glamorgan,  there  him  slew : 
Then  did  he  raigne  alone,  when  he  none  equall  knew. 

xxxiv.  His  sonne  Rivall'  his  dead  rowme  did  supply; 

In  whose  sad  time  blood  did  from  heaven  rayne. 
Next  great  Gurgustus,  then  faire  Csecily, 
In  constant  peace  their  kingdomes  did  contayne. 
After  whom  Lago,  and  Kinmarke  did  rayne, 
And  Gorbogud,  till  far  in  years  he  grew: 

292  The  Faerie  Queene 

Then  his  ambitious  sonnes  unto  them  twayne 
Arraught  the  rule,  and  from  their  father  drew; 
Stout  Ferrex  and  sterne  Porrex  him  in  prison  threw. 

xxxv.  But  0 !  the  greedy  thirst  of  royall  crowne, 

That  knowes  no  kinred,  nor  regardes  no  right, 
Stird  Porrex  up  to  put  his  brother  downe; 
Who,  unto  him  assembling  forreigne  might, 
Made  warre  on  him,  and  fell  him  selfe  in  fight: 
Whose  death  t'avenge,  his  mother  mercilesse, 
Most  mercilesse  of  women,  Wyden  hight, 
Her  other  sonne  fast  sleeping  did  oppresse, 
And  with  most  cruell  hand  him  murdred  pittilesse. 

xxxvi.  Here  ended  Brutus  sacred  progeny, 

Which  had  seven  hundred  yeares  this  scepter  borne 
With  high  renowme  and  great  felicity: 
The  noble  braunch  from  th'  antique  stocke  was  torne 
Through  discord,  and  the  roiall  throne  forlorne. 
Thenceforth  this  Realme  was  into  factions  rent, 
Whilest  each  of  Brutus  boasted  to  be  borne, 
That  in  the  end  was  left  no  moniment 
Of  Brutus,  nor  of  Britons  glorie  auncient. 

xxxvii.  Then  up  arose  a  man  of  matchlesse  might, 
And  wondrous  wit  to  menage  high  affayres, 
Who,  stird  with  pitty  of  the  stressed  plight 
Of  this  sad  realme,  cut  into  sondry  shayres 
By  such  as  claymd  themselves  Brutes  rightfull  hayres, 
Gathered  the  Princes  of  the  people  loose 
To  taken  counsell  of  their  common  cares ; 
Who,  with  his  wisedom  won,  him  streight  did  choose 
Their  king,  and  swore  him  fealty  to  win  or  loose. 

xxxvni.  Then  made  he  head  against  his  enimies, 
And  Ymner  slew  of  Logris  miscreate; 
Then  Ruddoc  and  proud  Stater,  both  allyes, 
This  of  Albany  newly  nominate, 
And  that  of  Cambry  king  confirmed  late, 
He  overthrew  through  his  owne  valiaunce; 
Whose  countries  he  redus'd  to  quiet  state, 
And  shortly  brought  to  civile  governaunce, 
Now   one,   which   earst   were   many    made    through 

Book  II — Canto  X  293 

xxxix.  Then  made  he  sacred  lawes,  which  some  men  say 
Were  unto  him  reveald  in  vision ; 
By  which  he  freed  the  Travellers  high-way, 
The  Churches  part,  and  Ploughmans  portion, 
Restraining  stealth  and  strong  extortion, 
The  gratious  Numa  of  great  Britany; 
For  till  his  dayes,  the  chiefe  dominion 
By  strength  was  wielded  without  pollicy: 
Therefore  he  first  wore  crowne  of  gold  for  dignity. 

xl.  Donwallo  dyde,  (for  what  may  live  for  ay?) 

And  left  two  sonnes,  of  pearelesse  prowesse  both, 

That  sacked  Rome  too  dearely  did  assay, 

The  recompence  of  their  perjured  oth; 

And  ransackt  Greece  wel  tryde,  when  they  were  wroth; 

Besides  subjected  France  and  Germany, 

Which  yet  their  praises  speake,  all  be  they  loth, 

And  inly  tremble  at  the  memory 

Of  Brennus  and  Belinus,  kinges  of  Britany. 

xli.  Next  them  did  Gurgiunt,  great  Belinus  sonne, 
In  rule  succeede,  and  eke  in  fathers  praise ; 
He  Easterland  subdewd,  and  Denmarke  wonne, 
And  of  them  both  did  foy  and  tribute  raise, 
The  which  was  dew  in  his  dead  fathers  daies. 
He  also  gave  to  fugitives  of  Spayne, 
Whom  he  at  sea  found  wandring  from  their  waies, 
A  seate  in  Ireland  safely  to  remayne, 
Which  they  should  hold  of  him,  as  subject  to  Britayne. 

xlii.  After  him  raigned  Guitheline  his  hayre, 
The  justest  man  and  trewest  in  his  daies, 
Wlio  had  to  wife  Dame  Mertia  the  fayre, 
A  woman  worthy  of  immortall  praise, 
Which  for  this  Realme  found  many  goodly  layes, 
And  wholesome  Statutes  to  her  husband  brought. 
Her  many  deemd  to  have  beene  of  the  Fayes, 
As  was  Aegerie  that  Numa  tought : 
Those  yet  of  her  be  Mertian  lawes  both  nam'd  and  thought. 

xliii.  Her  sonne  Sisillus  after  her  did  rayne; 
And  then  Kimarus;  and  then  Danius: 
Next  whom  Morindus  did  the  crowne  sustayne ; 

294  The  Faerie  Queene 

Who,  had  he  not  with  wrath  outrageous 

And  cruell  rancour  dim'd  his  valorous 

And  mightie  deedes,  should  matched  have  the  best: 

As  well  in  that  same  field  victorious 

Against  the  forreine  Morands  he  exprest; 

Yet  lives  his  memorie,  though  carcas  sleepe  in  rest. 

xliv.  Five  sonnes  he  left,  begotten  of  one  wife, 
All  which  successively  by  turnes  did  rayne : 
First  Gorboman,  a  man  of  vertuous  life; 
Next  Archigald,  who  for  his  proud  disdayne 
Deposed  was  from  princedome  soverayne, 
And  pitteous  Elidure  put  in  his  sted ; 
Who  shortly  it  to  him  res  tor  d  agayne, 
Till  by  his  death  he  it  recovered : 
But  Peridure  and  Vigent  him  disthronized. 

xlv.  In  wretched  prison  long  he  did  remaine, 
Till  they  outraigned  had  their  utmost  date, 
And  then  therein  reseized  was  againe, 
And  ruled  long  with  honorable  state, 
Till  he  surrendered  Realme  and  life  to  fate. 
Then  all  the  sonnes  of  these  five  brethren  raynd 
By  dew  successe,  and  all  their  Nephewes  late ; 
Even  thrise  eleven  descents  the  crowne  retaynd, 
Till  aged  Hely  by  dew  heritage  it  gaynd. 

xlvi.  He  had  two  sonnes,  whose  eldest,  called  Lud, 
Left  of  his  life  most  famous  memory, 
And  endlesse  moniments  of  his  great  good: 
The  ruin'd  wals  he  did  resedifye 
Of  Troynovant,  gainst  force  of  enimy, 
And  built  that  gate  which  of  his  name  is  hight, 
By  which  he  lyes  entombed  solemnly. 
He  left  two  sonnes,  too  young  to  rule  aright, 
Androgeus  and  Tenantius,  pictures  of  his  might. 

xl vii.  Whilst  they  were  young,  Cassibalane,  their  Erne, 
Was  by  the  people  chosen  in  their  sted, 
Who  on  him  tooke  the  roiall  Diademe, 
And  goodly  well  long  time  it  governed ; 
Till  the  prowde  Romanes  him  disquieted, 
And  warlike  Caesar,  tempted  with  the  name 

Book  II — Canto  X  295 

Of  this  sweet  Island  never  conquered, 
And  envying  the  Britons  blazed  fame, 
(O  hideous  hunger  of  dominion  1)  hither  came. 

xlviii.  Yet  twise  they  were  repulsed  backe  againe, 

And  twise  renforst  backe  to  their  ships  to  fly; 

The  whiles  with  blood  they  all  the  shore  did  staine, 

And  the  gray  Ocean  into  purple  dy: 

Ne  had  they  footing  found  at  last,  perdie, 

Had  not  Androgeus,  false  to  native  soyle, 

And  envious  of  Uncles  soveraintie, 

Betrayd  his  countrey  unto  forreine  spoyle. 

Nought  els  but  treason  from  the  first  this  land  did  foyle. 

xlix.  So  by  him  Caesar  got  the  victory, 

Through  great  bloodshed  and  many  a  sad  assay, 

In  which  himselfe  was  charged  heavily 

Of  hardy  Nennius,  whom  he  yet  did  slay, 

But  lost  his  sword,  yet  to  be  seene  this  day. 

Thenceforth  this  land  was  tributarie  made 

T'  ambitious  Rome,  and  did  their  rule  obay, 

Till  Arthur  all  that  reckoning  defrayd : 

Yet  oft  the  Briton  kings  against  them  strongly  swayd. 

L.  Next  him  Tenantius  raignd ;  then  Kimbeline, 
What  time  th'  eternall  Lord  in  fleshly  slime 
Enwombed  was,  from  wretched  Adams  line 
To  purge  away  the  guilt  of  sinfull  crimei 
0  joyous  memorie  of  happy  time, 
That  heavenly  grace  so  plenteously  displayd ! 
(0  too  high  ditty  for  my  simple  rime !) 
Soone  after  this  the  Romanes  him  warrayd ; 
For  that  their  tribute  he  refusd  to  let  be  payd. 

li.  Good  Claudius,  that  next  was  Emperour, 

An  army  brought,  and  with  him  batteile  fought, 
In  which  the  king  was  by  a  Treachetour 
Disguised  slaine,  ere  any  thereof  thought: 
Yet  ceased  not  the  bloody  fight  for  ought; 
For  Arvirage  his  brothers  place  supplyde 
Both  in  his  armes  and  crowne,  and  by  that  draught 
Did  drive  the  Romanes  to  the  weaker  syde, 
That  they  to  peace  agreed.     So  all  was  pacifyde. 

296  The  Faerie  Queene 

lii.  Was  never  king  more  highly  magnifide, 
Nor  dredd  of  Romanes,  then  was  Arvirage; 
For  which  the  Emperour  to  him  allide 
His  daughter  Genuiss'  in  marriage : 
Yet  shortly  he  renounst  the  vassallage 
Of  Rome  againe,  who  hither  hastly  sent 
Vespasian,  that  with  great  spoile  and  rage 
Forwasted  all,  till  Genuissa  gent 
Persuaded  him  to  ceasse,  and  her  lord  to  relent. 

liii.  He  dide,  and  him  succeeded  Marius, 

Who  joyd  his  dayes  in  great  tranquillity. 

Then  Coyll;  and  after  him  good  Lucius, 

That  first  received  Christianity, 

The  sacred  pledge  of  Christes  Evangely. 

Yet  true  it  is,  that  long  before  that  day 

Hither  came  Joseph  of  Arimathy, 

Who  brought  with  him  the  holy  grayle,  they  say, 

And  preacht  the  truth ;  but  since  it  greatly  did  decay. 

liv.  This  good  king  shortly  without  issew  dide, 
Whereof  great  trouble  in  the  kingdome  grew, 
That  did  her  selfe  in  sondry  parts  divide, 
And  with  her  powre  her  owne  selfe  overthrew, 
Whilest  Romanes  daily  did  the  weake  subdew : 
Which  seeing,  stout  Bunduca  up  arose, 
And  taking  armes  the  Britons  to  her  drew; 
With  whom  she  marched  streight  against  her  foes, 
And  them  unwares  besides  the  Severne  did  enclose* 

lv.  There  she  with  them  a  cruell  batteill  tryde, 
Not  with  so  good  successe  as  shee  deserv'd; 
By  reason  that  the  Captaines  on  her  syde, 
Corrupted  by  Paulinus,  from  her  swerv'd : 
Yet,  such  as  were  through  former  flight  preserved 
Gathering  againe,  her  Host  she  did  renew, 
And  with  fresh  corage  on  the  victor  servd : 
But  being  all  defeated,  save  a  few, 
Rather  then  fly,  or  be  captiv'd,  her  selfe  she  slew. 

lvi.  0  famous  moniment  of  womens  prayse ! 
Matchable  either  to  Semiramis, 
Whom  antique  history  so  high  doth  rayse, 

Book  II — Canto  X 

Or  to  Hypsiphil',  or  to  Thomirisj 

Her  Host  two  hundred  thousand  numbred  is; 

Who,  whiles  good  fortune  favoured  her  might, 

Triumphed  oft  against  her  enemis ; 

And  yet,  though  overcome  in  haplesse  fight, 

Shee  triumphed  on  death,  in  enemies  despight* 

lvii.  Her  reliques  Fulgent  having  gathered, 

Fought  with  Severus,  and  him  overthrew; 

Yet  in  the  chace  was  slaine  of  them  that  fled, 

So  made  them  victors  whome  he  did  subdew. 

Then  gan  Carausius  tirannize  anew, 

And  gainst  the  Romanes  bent  their  proper  powre; 

But  him  Allectus  treacherously  slew, 

And  tooke  on  him  the  robe  of  Emperoure: 

Nath'lesse  the  same  enjoyed  but  short  happy  howre: 

lviii.  For  Asclepiodate  him  overcame, 

And  left  inglorious  on  the  vanquisht  playne, 
Without  or  robe  or  rag  to  hide  his  shame : 
Then  afterwards  he  in  his  stead  did  raigne, 
But  shortly  was  by  Coy  11  in  batteill  slaine: 
Who  after  long  debate,  since  Lucies  tyme, 
Was  of  the  Britons  first  crownd  Soveraine. 
Then  gan  this  Realme  renew  her  passed  prime : 
He  of  his  name  Coylchester  built  of  stone  and  lime. 

Lix.  Which  when  the  Romanes  heard,  they  hither  sent 
Constantius,  a  man  of  mickle  might, 
WTith  whome  king  Coyll  made  an  agreement, 
And  to  him  gave  for  wife  his  daughter  bright, 
Fayre  Helena,  the  fairest  living  wight; 
Who  in  all  godly  thewes  and  goodly  praise 
Did  far  excell,  but  was  most  famous  hight 
For  skil  in  Musicke  of  all  in  her  daies, 
As  well  in  curious  instruments  as  cunning  laies, 

lx.  Of  whom  he  did  great  Constantine  begett, 
Who  afterward  was  Emperour  of  Rome, 
To  which  whiles  absent  he  his  mind  did  sett, 
Octavius  here  lept  into  his  roome, 
And  it  usurped  by  unrighteous  doome: 
But  he  his  title  justifide  by  might, 


298  The  Faerie  Queene 

Slaying  Traherne,  and  having  overcome 

The  Romane  legion  in  dreadfull  fight. 

So  settled  he  his  kingdome,  and  conflrmd  his  right: 

lxi.  But  wanting  yssew  male,  his  daughter  deare 
He  gave  in  wedlocke  to  Maximian, 
And  him  with  her  made  of  his  kingdome  heyre, 
Who  soone  by  meanes  thereof  the  Empire  wan, 
Till  murdred  by  the  freends  of  Gratian. 
Then  gan  the  Hunnes  and  Picts  invade  this  land, 
During  the  raigne  of  Maximinian; 
Who  dying  left  none  heire  them  to  withstand, 
But  that  they  overran  all  parts  with  easy  hand. 

lxii.  The  weary  Britons,  whose  war-hable  youth, 
Was  by  Maximian  lately  ledd  away, 
With  wretched  miseryes  and  woefull  ruth, 
Were  to  those  Pagans  made  an  open  pray, 
And  daily  spectacle  of  sad  decay: 
Whome  Romane  warres,  which  now  fowr  hundred  yeares 
And  more  had  wasted,  could  no  whit  dismay; 
Til,  by  consent  of  Commons  and  of  Peares, 
Thy  crowned  the  second  Constantine  with  joyous  teares. 

lxiii.  Who  having  oft  in  batteill  vanquished 

Those  spoylefull  Picts,  and  swarming  Easterlings, 

Long  time  in  peace  his  realme  established, 

Yet  oft  annoyd  with  sondry  bordragings, 

Of  neighbour  Scots,  and  forrein  Scatterlings 

With  which  the  world  did  in  those  dayes  abound: 

Which  to  outbarre,  with  painefull  pyonings 

From  sea  to  sea  he  heapt  a  mighty  mound, 

Which  from  Alcluid  to  Panwelt  did  that  border  bownd. 

lxiv.  Three  sones  he  dying  left,  all  under  age  ; 
By  meanes  whereof  their  uncle  Vortigere 
Usurpt  the  crowne  during  their  pupillage; 
Which  th'  Infants  tutors  gathering  to  feare 
Them  closely  into  Armorick  did  beare: 
For  dread  of  whom,  and  for  those  Picts  annoyes, 
He  sent  to  Germany  straunge  aid  to  reare; 
From  whence  eftsoones  arrived  here  three  hoyes 
Of  Saxons,  whom  he  for  his  safety  imployes. 

Book  II — Canto  X  299 

lxv.  Two  brethren  were  their  Capitayns,  which  hight 
Hengist  and  Horsus,  well  approv'd  in  warre, 
And  both  of  them  men  of  renowmed  might; 
Who  making  vantage  of  their  civile  jarre, 
And  of  those  forreyners  which  came  from  farre, 
Grew  great,  and  got  large  portions  of  land, 
That  in  the  Realme  ere  long  they  stronger  arre 
Then  they  which  sought  at  first  their  helping  hand, 
And  Vortiger  have  forst  the  kingdome  to  aband. 

lxvi.  But  by  the  helpe  of  Vortimere  his  sonne, 
He  is  againe  unto  his  rule  restord; 
And  Hengist,  seeming  sad  for  that  was  donne, 
Received  is  to  grace  and  new  accord, 
Through  his  faire  daughters  face  and  flattring  word. 
Soone  after  which  three  hundred  Lords  he  slew 
Of  British  blood,  all  sitting  at  his  bord  ; 
Whose  dolefull  moniments  who  list  to  rew, 
Th'  eternall  marks  of  treason  may  at  Stonheng  vew. 

lxvii.  By  this  the  sonnes  of  Constantine,  which  fled, 
Ambrose  and  Uther,  did  ripe  yeares  attayne, 
And,  here  arriving,  strongly  challenged 
The  crowne  which  Vortiger  did  long  detayne: 
Who,  flying  from  his  guilt,  by  them  was  slayne; 
And  Hengist  eke  soon  brought  to  shamefull  death. 
Thenceforth  Aurelius  peaceably  did  rayne, 
Till  that  through  poyson  stopped  was  his  breath; 
So  now  entombed  lies  at  Stoneheng  by  the  heath. 

lxviii.  After  him  Uther,  which  Pendragon  hight, 
Succeeding — There  abruptly  it  did  end, 
Without  full  point,  or  other  Cesure  right; 
As  if  the  rest  some  wicked  hand  did  rend, 
Or  th'  Author  selfe  could  not  at  least  attend 
To  finish  it:  that  so  untimely  breach 
The  Prince  him  selfe  halfe  seemed  to  offend; 
Yet  secret  pleasure  did  offence  empeach, 
And  wonder  of  antiquity  long  stopt  his  speach. 

lxix.  At  last,  quite  ravisht  with  delight  to  heare 
The  royall  Ofspring  of  his  native  land, 
Cry de  out;   "  Deare  countrey!    0!  how  dearely  deare 

300  The  Faerie  Queene 

Ought  thy  remembraunce  and  perpetuall  band 
Be  to  thy  foster  Childe,  that  from  thy  hand 
Did  commun  breath  and  nouriture  receave. 
How  brutish  is  it  not  to  understand 
How  much  to  her  we  owe,  that  all  us  gave ; 
That  gave  unto  us  all  what  ever  good  we  have. 

lxx.  But  Guyon  all  this  while  his  booke  did  read, 
Ne  yet  has  ended;  for  it  was  a  great 
And  ample  volume,  that  doth  far  excead 
My  leasure  so  long  leaves  here  to  repeat: 
It  told  how  first  Prometheus  did  create 
A  man,  of  many  parts  from  beasts  deryv'd, 
And  then  stole  fire  from  heven  to  animate 
His  worke,  for  which  he  was  by  Jove  depryv'd 
Of  life  him  selfe,  and  hart-strings  of  an  Aegle  ryv'd, 

lxxi.  That  man  so  made  he  called  Elfe,  to  weet 
Quick,  the  first  author  of  all  Elfin  kynd ; 
Who,  wandring  through  the  world  with  wearie  feet, 
Did  in  the  gardins  of  Adonis  fynd 
A  goodly  creature,  whom  he  deemed  in  mynd 
To  be  no  earthly  wight,  but  either  Spright, 
Or  Angell,  th'  authour  of  all  woman  kynd; 
Therefore  a  Fay  he  her  according  hight, 
Of  whom  all  Faery  es  spring,  and  fetch  their  lienage  right, 

lxxii.  Of  these  a  mighty  people  shortly  grew, 

And  puissant  kinges  which  all  the  world  warrayd, 
And  to  them  selves  all  Nations  did  subdew. 
The  first  and  eldest,  which  that  scepter  swayd, 
Was  Elfin;  him  all  India  obayd, 
And  all  that  now  America  men  call: 
Next  him  was  noble  Elfinan,  who  laid 
Cleopolis  foundation  first  of  all: 
But  Elfiline  enclosd  it  with  a  golden  wall* 

lxxiii.  His  sonne  was  Elfinell,  who  overcame 
The  wicked  Gobbelines  in  bloody  field; 
But  Elfant  was  of  most  renowmed  fame, 
Who  all  of  Christall  did  Panthea  build : 
Then  Elfar,  who  two  brethren  gyauntes  kild, 
The  one  of  which  had  two  heades,  th'  other  three: 

Book  II — Canto  X  301 

Then  Elfinor,  who  was  in  magick  skild; 
He  built  by  art  upon  the  glassy  See 
A  bridge  of  bras,  whose  sound  hevens  thunder  seem'd 
to  bee. 

lxxiv.  He  left  three  sonnes,  the  which  in  order  raynd, 
And  all  their  Of  spring,  in  their  dew  descents ; 
Even  seven  hundred  Princes,  which  maintaynd 
With  mightie  deedes  their  sondry  governments; 
That  were  too  long  their  infinite  contents 
Here  to  record,  ne  much  materiall: 
Yet  should  they  be  most  famous  moniments, 
And  brave  ensample,  both  of  martiall 
And  civil  rule,  to  kinges  and  states  imperiall. 

lxxv.  After  all  these  Elficleos  did  rayne, 

The  wise  Elficleos,  in  great  Majestie, 
Who  mightily  that  scepter  did  sustayne, 
And  with  rich  spoyles  and  famous  victorie 
Did  high  advaunce  the  crowne  of  Faery: 
He  left  two  sonnes,  of  which  faire  Elferon, 
The  eldest  brother,  did  untimely  dy; 
Whose  emptie  place  the  mightie  Oberon 
Doubly  supplide,  in  spousall  and  dominion.- 

lxxvi.  Great  was  his  power  and  glorie  over  all 

Which,  him  before,  that  sacred  seate  did  fill, 

That  yet  remaines  his  wide  memoriall. 

He  dying  left  the  fairest  Tanaquill, 

Him  to  succeede  therein,  by  his  last  will: 

Fairer  and  nobler  liveth  none  this  howre, 

Ne  like  in  grace,  ne  like  in  learned  skill; 

Therefore  they  Glorian  call  that  glorious  flowre : 

Long  mayst  thou,  Glorian,  live  in  glory  and  great  powre ! 

lxxvii.  Beguyld  thus  with  delight  of  novelties, 
And  naturall  desire  of  countryes  state, 
So  long  they  redd  in  those  antiquities, 
That  how  the  time  was  fled  they  quite  f orgate ; 
Till  gentle  Alma,  seeing  it  so  late, 
Perforce  their  studies  broke,  and  them  besought 
To  thinke  how  supper  did  them  long  awaite: 
So  halfe  unwilling  from  their  bookes  them  brought, 
And  fayrely  feasted  as  so  noble  knightes  she  ought. 

302  The  Faerie  Queene 


The  enimies  of  Temperaunce 
Besiege  her  dwelling  place : 
Prince  Arthure  them  repelles,  and  iowic 
Maleger  doth  deface. 

i.  What  warre  so  cruel,  or  what  siege  so  sore, 
As  that  which  strong  affections  doe  apply 
Against  the  forte  of  reason  evermore, 
To  bring  the  sowle  into  captivity? 
Their  force  is  fiercer  through  infirmity 
Of  the  fraile  flesh,  relenting  to  their  rage, 
And  exercise  most  bitter  tyranny 
Upon  the  partes  brought  into  their  bondage : 
No  wretchednesse  is  like  to  sinfull  vellenage. 

n.  But  in  a  body  which  doth  freely  yeeld 
His  partes  to  reasons  rule  obedient, 
And  letteth  her  that  ought  the  scepter  weeld, 
All  happy  peace  and  goodly  government 
Is  setled  there  in  sure  establishment. 
There  Alma,  like  a  virgin  Queene  most  bright, 
Doth  florish  in  all  beautie  excellent; 
And  to  her  guestes  doth  bounteous  banket  dight, 
Attempred  goodly  well  for  health  and  for  delight. 

in.  Early,  before  the  Morne  with  cremosin  ray 
The  windowes  of  bright  heaven  opened  had, 
Through  which  into  the  world  the  dawning  day 
Might  looke,  that  maketh  every  creature  glad, 
Uprose  Sir  Guyon,  in  bright  armour  clad, 
And  to  his  purposd  journey  him  prepar'd: 
With  him  the  Palmer  eke  in  habit  sad 
Him  selfe  addrest  to  that  adventure  hard : 
So  to  the  rivers  syde  they  both  together  far'd : 

iv.  Where  them  awaited  ready  at  the  ford 
The  Ferriman,  as  Alma  had  behight, 
With  his  well-rigged  bote :  They  goe  abord, 


Book  II — Canto  XI 

And  he  eftsoones  gan  launch  his  barke  forthright. 
Ere  long  they  rowed  were  quite  out  of  sight, 
And  fast  the  land  behynd  them  fled  away. 
But  let  them  pas,  whiles  wind  and  wether  right 
Doe  serve  their  turnes:  here  I  a  while  must  stay, 
To  see  a  cruell  fight  docn  by  the  prince  this  day. 

v.  For  all  so  soone  as  Guyon  thence  was  gon 
Upon  his  voyage  with  his  trustie  guyde, 
That  wicked  band  of  villeins  fresh  begon 
That  castle  to  assaile  on  every  side, 
And  lay  strong  siege  about  it  far  and  wyde. 
So  huge  and  infinite  their  numbers  were, 
That  all  the  land  they  under  them  did  hyde ; 
So  fowle  and  ugly,  that  exceeding  feare 
Their  visages  imprest  when  they  approched  neare. 

vi.  Them  in  twelve  troupes  their  Captein  did  dispart, 
And  round  about  in  fittest  steades  did  place, 
Where  each  might  best  offend  his  proper  part, 
And  his  contrary  object  most  deface, 
As  every  one  seem'd  meetest  in  that  cace. 
Seven  of  the  same  against  the  Castle  gate 
In  strong  entrenchments  he  did  closely  place, 
Which  with  incessaunt  force  and  endlesse  hate 
They  battred  day  and  night,  and  entraunce  did  awate. 

vii.  The  other  five  five  sondry  wayes  he  sett 

Against  the  five  great  Bulwarkes  of  that  pyle, 

And  unto  each  a  Bulwarke  did  arrett, 

T'  assayle  with  open  force  or  hidden  guyle, 

In  hope  thereof  to  win  victorious  spoile. 

They  all  that  charge  did  fervently  apply 

With  greedie  malice  and  importune  toyle, 

And  planted  there  their  huge  artillery, 

With  which  they  dayly  made  most  dreadfull  battery* 

viii.  The  first  troupe  was  a  monstrous  rablement 

Of  fowle  misshapen  wightes,  of  which  some  were 
Headed  like  Owles,  with  beckes  uncomely  bent; 
Others  like  Dogs ;  others  like  Gryphons  dreare ; 
And  some  had  wings,  and  some  had  clawes  to  teare : 
And  every  one  of  them  had  Lynces  eyes; 

304  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  every  one  did  bow  and  arrowes  beare. 
All  those  were  lawlesse  lustes,  currupt  envyes, 
And  covetous  aspects,  all  cruell  enimyes. 

ix.  Those  same  against  the  bulwarke  of  the  Sight 
Did  lay  strong  siege  and  battailous  assault, 
Ne  once  did  yield  it  respitt  day  nor  night; 
But  soone  as  Titan  gan  his  head  exault, 
And  soone  againe  as  he  his  light  withhault, 
Their  wicked  engins  they  against  it  bent; 
That  is,  each  thing  by  which  the  eyes  may  fault 
But  two  then  all  more  huge  and  violent, 
Beautie  and  Money,  they  that  Bulwarke  sorely  rent. 

x.  The  second  Bulwarke  was  the  Hearing  sence, 
Gainst  which  the  second  troupe  assignment  makes ; 
Deformed  creatures,  in  straunge  difference, 
Some  having  heads  like  Harts,  some  like  to  Snakes, 
Some  like  wilde  Bores  late  rouzd  out  of  the  brakes : 
Slaunderous  reproches,  and  fowle  infamies. 
Leasinges,  backbytinges,  and  vain-glorious  crakes, 
Bad  counsels,  prayses,  and  false  flatteries: 
All  those  against  that  fort  did  bend  their  batteries. 

xi.  Likewise  that  same  third  Fort,  that  is  the  Smell, 
Of  that  third  troupe  was  cruelly  assayd ; 
Whose  hideous  shapes  were  like  to  feendes  of  hell. 
Some  like  to  houndes,  some  like  to  Apes,  dismayd, 
Some  like  to  Puttockes,  all  in  plumes  arayd ; 
All  shap't  according  their  conditions : 
For  by  those  ugly  formes  weren  pourtrayd 
Foolish  delights,  and  fond  abusions, 
Which  doe  that  sence  besiege  with  light  illusions. 

xii.  And  that  fourth  band  which  cruell  battry  bent 
Against  the  fourth  Bulwarke,  that  is  the  Taste, 
Was,  as  the  rest,  a  grysie  rablement; 
Some  mouth'd  like  greedy  Oystriges;  some  faste 
Like  loathly  Toades ;  some  fashioned  in  the  waste 
Like  swine:  for  so  deformd  is  luxury, 
Surfeat,  misdiet,  and  unthriftie  waste, 
Vaine  feastes,  and  ydle  superfluity: 
All  those  this  sences  Fort  assayle  incessantly. 

Book  II — Canto  XI  305 

xiii.  But  the  fift  troupe,  most  horrible  of  hew 
And  ferce  of  force,  is  dreadfull  to  report; 
For  some  like  Snailes,  some  did  like  spyders  shew, 
And  some  like  ugly  Urchins  thick  and  short: 
Cruelly  they  assaged  that  fift  Fort, 
Armed  with  dartes  of  sensuall  Delight, 
With  stinges  of  carnall  lust,  and  strong  effort 
Of  feeling  pleasures,  with  which  day  and  night 
Against  that  same  fift  bulwarke  they  continued  fight. 

xiv.  Thus  these  twelve  troupes  with  dreadfull  puissaunce 
Against  that  Castle  restlesse  siege  did  lay, 
And  evermore  their  hideous  Ordinaunce 
Upon  the  Bulwarkes  cruelly  did  play, 
That  now  it  gan  to  threaten  neare  decay: 
And  evermore  their  wicked  Capitayn 
Provoked  them  the  breaches  to  assay, 
Sometimes  with  threats,  sometimes  with  hope  of  gayn, 
Which  by  the  ransack  of  that  peece  they  should  attayn. 

xv.  On  th'  other  syde,  th'  assieged  Castles  ward 
Their  stedfast  stonds  did  mightily  maintaine, 
And  many  bold  repulse  and  many  hard 
Atchievement  wrought,  with  perill  and  with  payne, 
That  goodly  frame  from  mine  to  sustaine : 
And  those  two  brethren  Gyauntes  did  defend 
The  walles  so  stoutly  with  their  sturdie  mayne, 
That  never  entraunce  any  durst  pretend, 
But  they  to  direfull  death  their  groning  ghosts  did  send. 

xvi.  The  noble  Virgin,  Ladie  of  the  Place, 

Was  much  dismayed  with  that  dreadful  sight, 

For  never  was  she  in  so  evill  cace, 

Till  that  the  Prince,  seeing  her  wofull  plight, 

Gan  her  recomfort  from  so  sad  affright, 

Offring  his  service,  and  his  dearest  life 

For  her  defence  against  that  Carle  to  fight, 

Which  was  their  chiefe  and  th'  authour  of  that  strife : 

She  him  remercied  as  the  Patrone  of  her  life. 

xvii.  Eftsoones  himselfe  in  glitterand  armes  he  dight, 
And  his  well  proved  weapons  to  him  hent; 
So,  taking  courteous  conge,  he  behight 

306  The  Faerie  Queene 

Those  gates  to  be  unbar'd,  and  forth  he  went. 

Fayre  mote  he  thee,  the  prowest  and  most  gent, 

That  ever  brandished  bright  Steele  on  hye ! 

Whome  soone  as  that  unruly  rablement 

With  his  gay  Squyre  issewing  did  espye, 

They  reard  a  most  outrageous  dreadfull  yelling  cry : 

xviii.  And  therewithall  attonce  at  him  let  fly 

Their  fluttring  arrowes,  thicke  as  flakes  of  snow, 
And  round  about  him  flocke  impetuously, 
Like  a  great  water  flood,  that  tombling  low 
From  the  high  mountaines,  threates  to  overflow 
With  suddein  fury  all  the  fertile  playne, 
And  the  sad  husbandmans  long  hope  doth  throw 
Adowne  the  streame,  and  all  his  vowes  make  vayne; 
Nor  bounds  nor  banks  his  headlong  mine  may  sustayne. 

xix.  Upon  his  shield  their  heaped  hayle  he  bore, 
And  with  his  sword  disperst  the  raskall  flockes, 
Which  fled  asonder,  and  him  fell  before; 
As  withered  leaves  drop  from  their  dryed  stockes, 
When  the  wroth  Western  wind  does  reave  their  locks : 
And  underneath  him  his  courageous  steed, 
The  fierce  Spumador,  trode  them  downe  like  docks; 
The  fierce  Spumador,  borne  of  heavenly  seed, 
Such  as  Laomedon  of  Phcebus  race  did  breed. 

xx.  Which  suddeine  horrour  and  confused  cry 

When  as  their  Capteine  heard,  in  haste  he  yode 
The  cause  to  weet,  and  fault  to  remedy : 
Upon  a  Tygre  swift  and  fierce  he  rode, 
That  as  the  winde  ran  underneath  his  lode, 
Whiles  his  long  legs  nigh  raught  unto  the  ground. 
Full  large  he  was  of  limbe,  and  shoulders  brode, 
But  of  such  subtile  substance  and  unsound, 
That  like  a  ghost  he  seem'd  whose  grave-clothes  were 
unbound : 

xxi.  And  in  his  hand  a  bended  bow  was  seene, 
And  many  arrowes  under  his  right  side, 
All  deadly  daungerous,  all  cruell  keene, 
Headed  with  flint,  and  f ethers  bloody  dide; 
Such  as  the  Indians  in  their  quivers  hide : 
Those  could  he  well  direct  and  streight  as  line, 

Book  II — Canto  XI  307 

And  bid  them  strike  the  marke  which  he  had  eyde; 

Ne  was  there  salve,  ne  was  there  medicine, 

That  mote  recure  their  wounds;  so  inly  they  did  tine. 

xxii.  As  pale  and  wan  as  ashes  was  his  looke, 
His  body  leane  and  meagre  as  a  rake, 
And  skin  all  withered  like  a  dryed  rooke; 
Thereto  as  cold  and  drery  as  a  snake, 
That  seemd  to  tremble  evermore  and  quake; 
All  in  a  canvas  thin  he  was  bedight, 
And  girded  with  a  belt  of  twisted  brake: 
Upon  his  head  he  wore  an  Helmet  light, 
Made  of  a  dead  mans  skull,  that  seemd  a  ghastly  sight. 

xxiii.  Maleger  was  his  name;  and  after  him 

There  follow'd  fast  at  hand  two  wicked  Hags, 

With  hoary  lockes  all  loose,  and  visage  grim ; 

Their  feet  unshod,  their  bodies  wrapt  in  rags, 

And  both  as  swift  on  foot  as  chased  Stags ; 

And  yet  the  one  her  other  legge  had  lame, 

Which  with  a  staffe,  all  full  of  litle  snags, 

She  did  support,  and  Impotence  her  name. 

But  th'  other  was  Impatience,  arm'd  with  raging  flame. 

xxiv.  Soone  as  the  Carle  from  far  the  Prince  espyde 
Glistring  in  armes  and  warlike  ornament, 
His  Beast  he  felly  prickt  on  either  syde, 
And  his  mischievous  bow  full  readie  bent, 
With  which  at  him  a  cruell  shaft  he  sent  : 
But  he  was  warie,  and  it  warded  well 
Upon  his  shield,  that  it  no  further  went, 
But  to  the  ground  the  idle  quarrell  fell  : 
Then  he  another  and  another  did  expell. 

xxv.  Which  to  prevent  the  Prince  his  mortall  speare 
Soone  to  him  raught,  and  fierce  at  him  did  ride, 
To  be  avenged  of  that  shot  whyleare; 
But  he  was  not  so  hardy  to  abide 
That  bitter  stownd,  but  turning  quicke  aside 
His  light-foot  beast,  fled  fast  away  for  f eare : 
WThom  to  poursue  the  Infant  after  hide 
So  fast  as  his  good  Courser  could  him  beare  ; 
But  labour  lost  it  was  to  weene  approch  him  neare. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  For  as  the  winged  wind  his  Tigre  fled, 

That  vew  of  eye  could  scarse  him  overtake, 
Ne  scarse  his  feet  on  ground  were  seene  to  tred  : 
Through  hils  and  dales  he  speedy  way  did  make, 
Ne  hedge  ne  ditch  his  readie  passage  brake; 
And  in  his  flight  the  villein  turn'd  his  face 
(As  wonts  the  Tartar  by  the  Caspian  lake, 
Whenas  the  Russian  him  in  fight  does  chace) 
Unto  his  Tygres  taile,  and  shot  at  him  apace. 

xxvu.  Apace  he  shot,  and  yet  he  fled  apace, 

Still  as  the  greedy  knight  nigh  to  him  drew; 

And  oftentimes  he  would  relent  his  pace, 

That  him  his  foe  more  fiercely  should  poursew : 

But  when  his  uncouth  manner  he  did  vew, 

He  gan  avize  to  follow  him  no  more, 

But  keepe  his  standing,  and  his  shaftes  eschew, 

Untill  he  quite  had  spent  his  perlous  store, 

And  then  assay le  him  fresh,  ere  he  could  shift  for  more. 

xxviii.  But  that  lame  Hag,  still  as  abroad  he  strew 
His  wicked  arrowes,  gathered  them  againe, 
And  to  him  brought,  fresh  batteill  to  renew; 
Which  he  espying  cast  her  to  restraine 
From  yielding  succour  to  that  cursed  Swaine, 
And  her  attaching  thought  her  hands  to  ty e ; 
But  soone  as  him  dismounted  on  the  plaine 
That  other  Hag  did  far  away  espye 
Binding  her  sister,  she  to  him  ran  hastily; 

xxix.  And  catching  hold  of  him,  as  downe  he  lent, 

Him  backeward  overthrew,  and  downe  him  stayd 
With  their  rude  handes  and  gryesly  graplement; 
Till  that  the  villein,  comming  to  their  ayd, 
Upon  him  fell,  and  lode  upon  him  layd : 
Full  litle  wanted  but  he  had  him  slaine, 
And  of  the  battell  balefull  end  had  made, 
Had  not  his  gentle  Squire  beheld  his  paine, 
And  commen  to  his  reskew,  ere  his  bitter  bane. 

xxx.  So  greatest  and  most  glorious  thing  on  ground 
May  often  need  the  helpe  of  weaker  hand; 
So  feeble  is  mans  state,  and  life  unsound, 

Book  II — Canto  XI  309 

That  in  assuraunce  it  may  never  stand, 
Till  it  dissolved  be  from  earthly  band. 
Proofe  be  thou,  Prince,  the  prowest  man  alyve, 
And  noblest  borne  of  all  in  Britayne  land ; 
Yet  thee  fierce  Fortune  did  so  nearely  drive, 
That,  had  not  grace  thee  blest,  thou  shouldest  not 

xxxi.  The  Squyre  arriving  fiercely  in  his  armes 

Snatcht  first  the  one,  and  then  the  other  Jade, 

His  chiefest  letts  and  authors  of  his  harmes, 

And  them  perforce  withheld  with  threatned  blade, 

Least  that  his  Lord  they  should  behinde  invade; 

The  whiles  the  Prince,  prickt  with  reprochful  shame, 

As  one  awakte  out  of  long  slombring  shade, 

Revivyng  thought  of  glory  and  of  fame, 

United  all  his  powres  to  purge  him  selfe  from  blame. 

xxxii.  Like  as  a  fire,  the  which  in  hollow  cave 

Hath  long  bene  underkept  and  down  supprest, 

With  murmurous  disdayne  doth  inly  rave, 

And  grudge  in  so  streight  prison  to  be  prest, 

At  last  breakes  forth  with  furious  unrest, 

And  strives  to  mount  unto  his  native  seat; 

All  that  did  earst  it  hinder  and  molest, 

Yt  now  devoures  with  flames  and  scorching  heat, 

And  carries  into  smoake  with  rage  and  horror  great. 

xxxiii.  So  mightely  the  Briton  Prince  him  rouzd 

Out  of  his  holde,  and  broke  his  cay tive  bands ; 
And  as  a  Beare,  whom  angry  curres  have  touzd, 
Having  off-shakt  them  and  escapt  their  hands, 
Becomes  more  fell,  and  all  that  him  withstands 
Treads  down  and  overthrowes.     Now  had  the  Carle 
Alighted  from  his  Tigre,  and  his  hands 
Discharged  of  his  bow  and  deadly  quar'le, 
To  seize  upon  his  foe  flatt  lying  on  the  marie. 

xxxiv.  Which  now  him  turnd  to  disavantage  deare; 
For  neither  can  he  fly,  nor  other  harme, 
But  trust  unto  his  strength  and  manhood  meare> 
Sith  now  he  is  far  from  his  monstrous  swarm e, 
And  of  his  weapons  did  himselfe  disarme. 
The  knight,  yet  wrothfull  for  his  late  disgrace, 

310  The  Faerie  Queene 

Fiercely  advaunst  his  valorous  right  arme, 

And  him  so  sore  smott  with  his  yron  mace, 

That  groveling  to  the  ground  he  fell,  and  fild  his  place. 

xxxv.  Wei  weened  hee  that  field  was  then  his  owne, 
And  all  his  labor  brought  to  happy  end ; 
When  suddein  up  the  villeine  overthrowne 
Out  of  his  swowne  arose,  fresh  to  contend, 
And  gan  him  selfe  to  second  battaill  bend, 
As  hurt  he  had  not  beene.     Thereby  there  lay 
An  huge  great  stone,  which  stood  upon  one  end, 
And  had  not  bene  removed  many  a  day ; 
Some  land-marke  seemd  to  bee,  or  signe  of  sundry  way : 

xxxvi.  The  same  he  snatcht,  and  with  exceeding  sway 
Threw  at  his  foe,  whe  was  right  well  aware 
To  shonne  the  engin  of  his  meant  decay ; 
It  booted  not  to  thinke  that  throw  to  beare, 
But  grownd  he  gave,  and  lightly  lept  areare: 
Eft  fierce  retourning,  as  a  faulcon  fayre, 
That  once  hath  failed  of  her  souse  full  neare, 
Remounts  againe  into  the  open  ayre, 
And  unto  better  fortune  doth  her  selfe  prepayre. 

xxxvu.  So  brave  retourning,  with  his  brandisht  blade 
He  to  the  Carle  him  selfe  agayn  addrest, 
And  strooke  at  him  so  sternely,  that  he  made 
An  open  passage  through  his  riven  brest, 
That  halfe  the  Steele  behind  his  backe  did  rest; 
Which  drawing  backe,  he  looked  evermore 
When  the  hart  blood  should  gush  out  of  his  chest, 
Or  his  dead  corse  should  fall  upon  the  flore; 
But  his  dead  corse  upon  the  flore  fell  nathemore. 

xxxvill.  Ne  drop  of  blood  appeared  shed  to  bee, 

All  were  the  wownd  so  wide  and  wonderous 
That  through  his  carcas  one  might  playnly  see. 
Halfe  in  amaze  with  horror  hideous, 
And  halfe  in  rage  to  be  deluded  thus, 
Again  through  both  the  sides  he  strooke  him  quight, 
That  made  his  spright  to  grone  full  piteous; 
Yet  nathemore  forth  fled  his  groning  spright, 
But  freshly,  as  at  first,  prepared  himselfe  to  fight. 

Book  II — Canto  XI  311 

xxxix.  Thereat  he  smitten  was  with  great  affright, 
And  trembling  terror  did  his  hart  apall; 
Ne  wist  he  what  to  thinke  of  that  same  sight, 
Ne  what  to  say,  ne  what  to  doe  at  all : 
He  doubted  least  it  were  some  magicall 
Illusion  that  did  beguile  his  sense, 
Or  wandring  ghost  that  wanted  funerall, 
Or  aery  spirite  under  false  pretence, 
Or  hellish  feend  raysd  up  through  divelish  science. 

XL.  His  wonder  far  exceeded  reasons  reach, 
That  he  began  to  doubt  his  dazeled  sight, 
And  oft  of  error  did  himselfe  appeach  : 
Flesh  without  blood,  a  person  without  spright, 
Wounds  without  hurt,  a  body  without  might, 
That  could  doe  harme,  yet  could  not  harmed  bee, 
That  could  not  die,  yet  seemd  a  mortall  wight, 
That  was  most  strong  in  most  infirmitee ; 
Like  did  he  never  heare,  like  did  he  never  see. 

xli.  Awhile  he  stood  in  this  astonishment, 
Yet  would  he  not  for  all  his  great  dismay 
Give  over  to  effect  his  first  intent, 
And  th'  utmost  meanes  of  victory  assay, 
Or  th'  utmost  yssew  of  his  owne  decay. 
His  owne  good  sword  Mordure,  that  never  fayld 
At  need  till  now,  he  lightly  threw  away, 
And  his  bright  shield  that  nought  him  now  avayld ; 
And  with  his  naked  hands  him  forcibly  assayld. 

xlii.  Twixt  his  two  mighty  armes  him  up  he  snatcht, 
And  crusht  his  carcas  so  against  his  brest, 
That  the  disdainfull  sowle  he  thence  dispatcht, 
And  th'  ydle  breath  all  utterly  exprest. 
Tho,  when  he  felt  him  dead,  adowne  he  kest 
The  lumpish  corse  unto  the  sencelesse  grownd ; 
Adowne  he  kest  it  with  so  puissant  wrest, 
That  backe  againe  it  did  alofte  rebownd, 
And  gave  against  his  mother  earth  a  gronefull  sownd. 

xliii.  As  when  Joves  harnesse-bearing  Bird  from  hye 
Stoupes  at  a  flying  heron  with  proud  disdayne, 
The  stone-dead  quarrey  falls  so  forciblye, 

3  1 2  The  Faerie  Queene 

That  yt  rebownds  against  the  lowly  playne, 

A  second  fall  redoubling  backe  agayne. 

Then  thought  the  Prince  all  peril  sure  was  past. 

And  that  he  victor  onely  did  remayne ; 

No  sooner  thought,  then  that  the  Carle  as  fast 

Gan  heap  huge  strokes  on  him,  as  ere  he  down  was  cast. 

xliv.  Nigh  his  wits  end  then  woxe  th'  amazed  knight, 
And  thought  his  labour  lost,  and  travell  vayne, 
Against  this  lif elesse  shadow  so  to  fight : 
Yet  life  he  saw,  and  felt  his  mighty  mayne, 
That,  whiles  he  marveild  still,  did  still  him  payne ; 
Forthy  he  gan  some  other  wayes  advize, 
How  to  take  life  from  that  dead-living  swayne, 
Whom  still  he  marked  freshly  to  arize 
From  th'  earth,  and  from  her  womb  new  spirits  to  reprize. 

xlv.  He  then  remembered  well,  that  had  bene  sayd, 
How  th'  Earth  his  mother  was,  and  first  him  bore; 
She  eke,  so  often  as  his  life  decayd, 
Did  life  with  usury  to  him  restore, 
And  reysd  him  up  much  stronger  than  before, 
So  soone  as  he  unto  her  wombe  did  fall : 
Therefore  to  grownd  he  would  him  cast  no  more, 
Ne  him  committ  to  grave  terrestriall, 
But  beare  him  farre  from  hope  of  succour  usuall. 

XL vi.  Tho  up  he  caught  him  twixt  his  puissant  hands, 
And  having  scruzd  out  of  his  carrion  corse 
The  lothfull  life,  now  loosd  from  sinfull  bands, 
Upon  his  shoulders  carried  him  perforse 
Above  three  furlongs,  taking  his  full  course 
Until  he  came  unto  a  standing  lake ; 
Him  thereinto  he  threw  without  remorse, 
Ne  stird,  till  hope  of  life  did  him  forsake : 
So  end  of  that  Carles  dayes  and  his  owne  paynes  did 

xxvii.  Which  when  those  wicked  Hags  from  far  did  spye, 
Like  two  mad  dogs  they  ran  about  the  lands, 
And  th'  one  of  them  with  dreadfull  yelling  crye, 
Throwing  away  her  broken  chaines  and  bands, 
And  having  quencht  her  burning  fier-brands, 

Book  II — Canto  XI  313 

Hedlong  her  selfe  did  cast  into  that  lake ; 

But  Impotence  with  her  owne  wilfull  hands 

One  of  Malegers  cursed  darts  did  take, 

So  ryv'd  her  trembling  hart,  and  wicked  end  did  make. 

xlviii.  Thus  now  alone  he  conquerour  remaines: 

Tho,  cumming  to  his  Squyre  that  kept  his  steed, 

Thought  to  have  mounted ;  but  his  feeble  vaines 

Him  faild  thereto,  and  served  not  his  need, 

Through  losse  of  blood  which  from  his  wounds  did  bleed, 

That  he  began  to  faint,  and  life  decay: 

But  his  good  Squyre,  him  helping  up  with  speed. 

With  stedfast  hand  upon  his  horse  did  stay, 

And  led  him  to  the  Castle  by  the  beaten  way.: 

xlix.  Where  many  Groomes  and  Squyres  ready  were 
To  take  him  from  his  steed  full  tenderly ; 
And  eke  the  fayrest  Alma  mett  him  there 
With  balme,  and  wine,  and  costly  spicery, 
To  comfort  him  in  his  infirmity. 
Eftesoones  shee  causd  him  up  to  be  convayd, 
And  of  his  armes  despoyled  easily 
In  sumptuous  bed  shee  made  him  to  be  layd; 
And  al  the  while  his  wounds  were  dressing  by  him  stayd. 

314  The  Faerie  Queene 


Guyon,  by  Palmers  governaunce, 
Passing  through  perilles  great, 
Doth  overthrow  the  Bowre  of  blis, 
And  Acrasy  defeat. 

I.  Now  ginnes  that  goodly  frame  of  Temperaunce 
Fayrely  to  rise,  and  her  adorned  hed 
To  pricke  of  highest  prayse  forth  to  advaunce, 
Formerly  grounded  and  fast  setteled 
On  firme  foundation  of  true  bountyhed: 
And  this  brave  knight,  that  for  this  vertue  fightes, 
Now  comes  to  point  of  that  same  perilous  sted. 
Where  Pleasure  dwelles  in  sensuall  delights, 
Mongst  thousand  dangers,  and  ten  thousand  Magick 

11.  Two  dayes  now  in  that  sea  he  sayled  has, 
Ne  ever  land  beheld,  ne  living  wight, 
Ne  ought  save  perill  still  as  he  did  pas : 
Tho,  when  appeared  the  third  Morrow  bright 
Upon  the  waves  to  spred  her  trembling  light, 
An  hideous  roring  far  away  they  heard, 
That  all  their  sences  filled  with  affright; 
And  streight  they  saw  the  raging  surges  reard 
Up  to  the  skyes,  that  them  of  drowning  made  affeard. 

in.  Said  then  the  Boteman,  "  Palmer,  stere  aright. 
And  keepe  an  even  course;  for  yonder  way 
We  needes  must  pas  (God  doe  us  well  acquight !) 
That  is  the  Gulfe  of  Greedinesse,  they  say, 
That  deepe  engorgeth  all  this  worldes  pray; 
Which  having  swallowd  up  excessively, 
He  soone  in  vomit  up  againe  doth  lay, 
And  belcheth  forth  his  superfluity, 
That  all  the  seas  for  feare  doe  seeme  away  to  fly. 

iv.  "  On  thother  syde  an  hideous  Rocke  is  pight 
Of  mightie  Magnes  stone,  whose  craggie  clift 
Depending  from  on  high,  dreadfull  to  sight, 

Book  II — Canto  XII  315 

Over  the  waves  his  rugged  armes  doth  lift, 

And  threatneth  downe  to  throw  his  ragged  rift 

On  whoso  cometh  nigh;  yet  nigh  it  drawes 

All  passengers,  that  none  from  it  can  shift: 

For,  whiles  they  fly  that  Gulfes  devouring  jawes, 

They  on  this  rock  are  rent,  and  sunck  in  helples  wawes." 

v.  Forward  they  passe,  and  strongly  he  them  rowes, 
Untill  they  nigh  unto  that  Gulfe  arryve, 
Where  streame  more  violent  and  greedy  growes: 
Then  he  with  all  his  puisaunce  doth  stryve 
To  strike  his  oares,  and  mightily  doth  drive 
The  hollow  vessell  through  the  threatf ull  wave ; 
Which,  gaping  wide  to  swallow  them  alyve 
In  th'  huge  abysse  of  his  engulfing  grave, 
Doth  rore  at  them  in  vaine,  and  with  great  terrour  rave. 

vi.  They,  passing  by,  that  grisely  mouth  did  see 
Sucking  the  seas  into  his  entralles  deepe, 
That  seemd  more  horrible  then  hell  to  bee, 
Or  that  darke  dreadfull  hole  of  Tartare  steepe 
Through  which  the  damned  ghosts  doen  often  creepe 
Backe  to  the  world,  bad  livers  to  torment: 
But  nought  that  falles  into  this  direfull  deepe 
Ne  that  approcheth  nigh  the  wyde  descent, 
May  backe  retourne,  but  is  condemned  to  be  drent* 

vii.  On  thother  side  they  saw  that  perilous  Rocke, 
Threatning  it  selfe  on  them  to  ruinate, 
On  whose  sharp  cliftes  the  ribs  of  vessels  broke; 
And  shivered  ships,  which  had  beene  wrecked  late, 
Yet  stuck  with  carkases  exanimate 
Of  such,  as  having  all  their  substance  spent 
In  wanton  joyes  and  lustes  intemperate, 
Did  afterwards  make  shipwrack  violent 
Both  of  their  life  and  fame,  for  ever  fowly  blent. 

viii.  Forthy  this  hight  The  Rocke  of  vile  Reproch, 
A  daungerous  and  detestable  place, 
To  which  nor  fish  nor  fowle  did  once  approch, 
But  yelling  Meawes,  with  Seagulles  hoars  and  bace, 
And  Cormoyraunts,  with  birds  of  ravenous  race, 
Which  still  sat  waiting  on  that  wastfull  clift 

316  The  Faerie  Queene 

For  spoile  of  wretches,  whose  unhappy  cace, 

After  lost  credit  and  consumed  thrift, 

At  last  them  driven  hath  to  this  despairefull  drift. 

ix.  The  Palmer,  seeing  them  in  safetie  past, 

Thus  saide;   "  Behold  th'  ensamples  in  our  sights 

Of  lustfull  luxurie  and  thriftlessse  wast. 

What  now  is  left  of  miserable  wightes, 

Which  spent  their  looser  daies  in  leud  delightes, 

But  shame  and  sad  reproch,  here  to  be  red 

By  these  rent  reliques,  speaking  their  ill  plightes  ? 

Let  all  that  live  hereby  be  counselled 

To  shunne  Rocke  of  Reproch,  and  it  as  death  to  dred !  ' 

x.  So  forth  they  rowed ;  and  that  Fern-man 

With  his  stiffe  oares  did  brush  the  sea  so  strong, 

That  the  hoare  waters  from  his  frigot  ran, 

And  the  light  bubles  daunced  all  along, 

Whiles  the  salt  brine  out  of  the  billowes  sprong. 

At  last  far  off  they  many  Islandes  spy 

On  every  side  floting  the  floodes  emong: 

Then  said  the  knight;   "Lo!  I  the  land  descry; 

Therefore,  old  Syre,  thy  course  doe  thereunto  apply. " 

xi.  "  That  may  not  bee,"  said  then  the  Ferryman, 
"  Least  wee  unweeting  hap  to  be  fordonne; 
For  those  same  Islands,  seeming  now  and  than, 
Are  not  firme  land,  nor  any  certein  wonne, 
But  stragling  plots  which  to  and  fro  doe  ronne 
In  the  wide  waters :    therefore  are  they  hight 
The  Wandring  Islands.     Therefore  doe  them  shonne; 
For  they  have  ofte  drawne  many  a  wandring  wight 
Into  most  deadly  daunger  and  distressed  plight. 

xii.  "  Yet  well  they  seeme  to  him,  that  farre  doth  vew, 
Both  faire  and  fruitfull,  and  the  grownd  dispred 
With  grassy  greene  of  delectable  hew; 
And  the  tall  trees  with  leaves  appareled 
Are  deckt  with  blossoms  dyde  in  white  and  red, 
That  mote  the  passengers  thereto  allure; 
But  whosoever  once  hath  fastened 
His  foot  thereon,  may  never  it  recure, 
But  wandreth  evermore  uncertain  and  unsure. 

Book  II — Canto  XII  317 

xiii.  "  As  th'  Isle  of  Delos  whylome,  men  report, 
Amid  th'  Aegaean  sea  long  time  did  stray, 
Ne  made  for  shipping  any  certeine  port, 
Till  that  Latona  traveiling  that  way, 
Flying  from  Junoes  wrath  and  hard  assay, 
Of  her  fayre  twins  was  there  delivered, 
Which  afterwards  did  rule  the  night  and  day: 
Thenceforth  it  firmely  was  established, 
And  for  Apolloes  temple  highly  herried." 

xiv.  They  to  him  hearken,  as  beseemeth  meete, 
And  passe  on  forward :   so  their  way  does  ly, 
That  one  of  those  same  Islands,  which  doe  fleet 
In  the  wide  sea,  they  needes  must  passen  by, 
Which  seemd  so  sweet  and  pleasaunt  to  the  eye, 
That  it  would  tempt  a  man  to  touchen  there: 
Upon  the  banck  they  sitting  did  espy 
A  daintie  damsell  dressing  of  her  heare, 
By  whom  a  little  skippet  rioting  did  appeare, 

xv.  She,  them  espying,  loud  to  them  can  call, 
Bidding  them  nigher  draw  unto  the  shore, 
For  she  had  cause  to  busie  them  withall; 
And  therewith  lowdly  laught:   But  nathemore 
Would  they  once  turne,  but  kept  on  as  afore : 
Which  when  she  saw,  she  left  her  lockes  undight, 
And  running  to  her  boat  withouten  ore, 
From  the  departing  land  it  launched  light, 
And  after  them  did  drive  with  all  her  power  and  might. 

xvi.  Whom  overtaking,  she  in  merry  sort 

Them  gan  to  bord,  and  purpose  diversly; 

Now  faining  dalliaunce  and  wanton  sport, 

Now  throwing  forth  lewd  wordes  immodestly; 

Till  that  the  Palmer  gan  full  bitterly 

Her  to  rebuke  for  being  loose  and  light: 

Which  not  abiding,  but  more  scornfully 

Scoffing  at  him  that  did  her  justly  wite, 

She  turnd  her  bote  about,  and  from  them  rowed  quite, 

xvii.  That  was  the  wanton  Phsedria,  which  late 
Did  ferry  him  over  the  Idle  lake : 
Whom  nought  regarding  they  kept  on  their  gate, 

31  8  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  all  her  vaine  allurements  did  forsake ; 

When  them  the  wary  Boteman  thus  bespake: 

"  Here  now  behove th  us  well  to  avyse, 

And  of  our  safety  good  heede  to  take; 

For  here  before  a  perlous  passage  lyes, 

Where  many  Mermayds  haunt  making  false  melodies : 

xviii.  "  But  by  the  way  there  is  a  great  Quicksand, 
And  a  whirlpoole  of  hidden  jeopardy; 
Therefore,  Sir  Palmer,  keepe  an  even  hand. 
For  twixt  them  both  the  narrow  way  doth  ly." 
Scarse  had  he  saide,  when  hard  at  hand  they  spy 
That  quicksand  nigh  with  water  covered ; 
But  by  the  checked  wave  they  did  descry 
It  plaine,  and  by  the  sea  discoloured : 
It  called  was  the  quickesand  of  Unthriftyhed, 

xix.  They,  passing  by,  a  goodly  Ship  did  see 
Laden  from  far  with  precious  merchandize, 
And  bravely  furnished  as  ship  might  bee, 
Which  through  great  disaventure,  or  mesprize, 
Her  selfe  had  ronne  into  that  hazardize; 
Whose  mariners  and  merchants  with  much  toyle 
Labour'd  in  vaine  to  have  recur'd  their  prize, 
And  the  rich  wares  to  save  from  pitteous  spoyle ; 
But  neither  toyle  nor  traveill  might  her  backe  recoyle. 

xx.  On  th7  other  side  they  see  that  perilous  Poole, 
That  called  was  the  Whirlepoole  of  decay ; 
In  which  full  many  had  with  haplesse  doole 
Beene  suncke,  of  whom  no  memorie  did  stay: 
Whose  circled  waters  rapt  with  whirling  sway, 
Like  to  a  restlesse  wheele,  still  ronning  round, 
Did  covet,  as  they  passed  by  that  way, 
To  draw  their  bote  within  the  utmost  bound 
Of  his  wide  Labyrinth,  and  then  to  have  them  dround. 

xxi.  But  th7  heedful  Boteman  strongly  forth  did  stretch 
His  brawnie  armes,  and  all  his  bodie  straine, 
That  th'  utmost  sandy  breach  they  shortly  fetch, 
Whiles  the  dredd  daunger  does  behind  remaine« 
Suddeine  they  see  from  midst  of  all  the  Maine 
The  surging  waters  like  a  mountaine  rise, 

Book  II — Canto  XII 


And  the  great  sea,  puft  up  with  proud  disdaine, 

To  swell  above  the  measure  of  his  guise, 

As  threatning  to  devoure  all  that  his  powre  despise. 

xxii.  The  waves  come  rolling,  and  the  billowes  rore 
Outragiously,  as  they  enraged  were, 
Or  wrathfull  Neptune  did  them  drive  before 
His  whirling  charet  for  exceeding  feare ; 
For  not  one  puffe  of  winde  there  did  appeare, 
That  all  the  three  thereat  woxe  much  afrayd, 
Un  wee  ting  what  such  horrour  straunge  did  reare. 
Eftsoones  they  saw  an  hideous  hoast  arrayd 
Of  huge  Sea  monsters,  such  as  living  sence  dismayd : 

xxiii.  Most  ugly  shapes  and  horrible  aspects, 

Such  as  Dame  Nature  selfe  mote  feare  to  see, 
Or  shame  that  ever  should  so  fowle  defects 
From  her  most  cunning  hand  escaped  bee; 
All  dreadfull  pourtraicts  of  def ormitee : 
Spring-headed  Hydres ;  and  sea-shouldring  Whales ; 
Great  whirlpooles  which  all  fishes  make  to  flee; 
Bright  Scolopendraes  arm'd  with  silver  scales; 
Mighty  Monoceroses  with  unmeasured  tayles. 

xxiv.  The  dreadful  Fish  that  hath  deserv'd  the  name 
Of  Death,  and  like  him  lookes  in  dreadfull  hew; 
The  griesly  Wasserman,  that  makes  his  game 
The  flying  ships  with  swiftnes  to  pursew: 
The  horrible  Sea-satyre,  that  doth  shew 
His  fearef ull  face  in  time  of  greatest  storme ; 
Huge  Ziffius,  whom  Mariners  eschew 
No  lesse  then  rockes,  (as  travellers  informe) 
And  greedy  Rosmarines  with  visages  deforme. 

xxv,  All  these,  and  thousand  thousands  many  more, 
And  more  deformed  Monsters  thousand  fold, 
With  dreadfull  noise  and  hollow  rombling  rore 
Came  rushing,  in  the  fomy  waves  enrold, 
Which  seem'd  to  fly  for  feare  them  to  behold. 
Ne  wonder,  if  these  did  the  knight  appall; 
For  all  that  here  on  earth  we  dreadfull  hold, 
Be  but  as  bugs  to  fearen  babes  withall, 
Compared  to  the  creatures  in  the  seas  entrall. 

320  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  Feare  nought/'  then  saide  the  Palmer  well  aviz'd, 
"  For  these  same  Monsters  are  not  these  in  deed, 
But  are  into  these  fearefull  shapes  disguiz'd 
By  that  same  witch,  to  worke  us  dreed, 
And  draw  from  on  this  journey  to  proceed." 
Tho  lifting  up  his  vertuous  staffe  on  hye, 
He  smote  the  sea,  which  calmed  was  with  speed, 
And  all  that  dreadfull  Armie  fast  gan  flye 
Into  great  Tethys  bosome,  where  they  hidden  lye. 

xxvii.  Quit  from  that  danger  forth  their  course  they  kept; 
And  as  they  went  they  heard  a  ruefull  cry 
Of  one  that  wayld  and  pittifully  wept, 
That  through  the  sea  resounding  plaints  did  fly: 
At  last  they  in  an  Island  did  espy 
A  seemely  Maiden  sitting  by  the  shore, 
That  with  great  sorrow  and  sad  agony 
Seemed  some  great  misfortune  to  deplore, 
And  lowd  to  them  for  succour  called  evermore. 

xxviii.  Which  Guy  on  hearing  streight  his  Palmer  bad 
To  stere  the  bote  towards  that  dolefull  Mayd, 
That  he  might  know  and  ease  her  sorrow  sad ; 
Who,  him  avizing  better,  to  him  sayd: 
"  Faire  Sir,  be  not  displeasd  if  disobayd: 
For  ill  it  were  to  hearken  to  her  cry, 
For  she  is  inly  nothing  ill  apayd; 
But  onely  womanish  fine  forgery, 
Your  stubborne  hart  t'affect  with  fraile  infirmity* 

xxix.  "  To  which  when  she  your  courage  hath  inclind 
Through  foolish  pitty,  then  her  guilefull  bayt 
She  will  embosome  deeper  in  your  mind, 
And  for  your  mine  at  the  last  awayt." 
The  Knight  was  ruled,  and  the  Boteman  strayt 
Held  on  his  course  with  stayed  stedfastnesse, 
Ne  ever  shroncke,  ne  ever  sought  to  bayt 
His  tyred  armes  for  toylesome  wearinesse, 
But  with  his  oares  did  sweepe  the  watry  wildernesse. 

xxx.  And  now  they  nigh  approched  to  the  sted 

Whereas  those  Mermayds  dwelt:  it  was  a  still 
And  calmy  bay,  on  th'  one  side  sheltered 

Book  II — Canto  XII  321 

With  the  brode  shadow  of  an  hoarie  hill; 
On  th'other  side  an  high  rocke  toured  still, 
That  twixt  them  both  a  pleasaunt  port  they  made, 
And  did  like  an  halfe  Theatre  fulfill: 
There  those  five  sisters  had  continuall  trade, 
,  And  usd  to  bath  themselves  in  that  deceiptfull  shade. 

xxxi.  They  were  faire  Ladies,  till  they  fondly  striv'd 
With  th'  Heliconian  maides  for  maystery; 
Of  whom  they,  over-comen,  were  depriv'd 
Of  their  proud  beautie,  and  th'  one  moyity 
Transformd  to  fish  for  their  bold  surquedry; 
But  th*  upper  halfe  their  hew  retayned  still, 
And  their  sweet  skill  in  wonted  melody; 
Which  ever  after  they  abusd  to  ill, 
T'  allure  weake  traveillers,  whom  gotten  they  did  kill. 

xxxii.  So  now  to  Guyon,  as  he  passed  by, 

Their  pleasaunt  tunes  they  sweetly  thus  applyde: 
"  0  thou  fayre  sonne  of  gentle  Faery, 
That  art  in  mightie  armes  most  magnifyde 
Above  all  knights  that  ever  batteill  tryde, 
0 !  turne  thy  rudder  hitherward  awhile 
Here  may  thy  storrne-bett  vessell  safely  ryde, 
This  is  the  Port  of  rest  from  troublous  toyle, 
The   worldes   sweet   In   from   paine   and   wearisome 

xxxiii.  With  that  the  rolling  sea,  resounding  soft, 
In  his  big  base  them  fitly  answered; 
And  on  the  rocke  the  waves  breaking  aloft 
A  solemne  Meane  unto  them  measured; 
The  whiles  sweet  Zephyrus  lowd  whisteled 
His  treble,  a  straunge  kinde  of  harmony, 
Which  Guyons  senses  softly  tickeled, 
That  he  the  boteman  bad  row  easily, 
And  let  him  heare  some  part  of  their  rare  melody. 

xxxiv.  But  him  the  Palmer  from  that  vanity 
With  temperate  advice  discounselled, 
That  they  it  past,  and  shortly  gan  descry 
The  land  to  which  their  course  they  leveled; 
When  suddeinly  a  grosse  fog  over-spred 
With  his  dull  vapour  all  that  desert  has, 

322  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  heavens  chearefull  face  enveloped, 
That  all  things  one,  and  one  as  nothing  was, 
And  this  great  Universe  seemd  one  confused  mas. 

xxxv.  Thereat  they  greatly  were  dismayd,  ne  wist 
How  to  direct  theyr  way  in  darkenes  wide, 
But  feard  to  wander  in  that  wastefull  mist, 
For  tombling  into  mischiefe  unespide: 
Worse  is  the  daunger  hidden  then  descride. 
Suddeinly  an  innumerable  flight 
Of  harmefull  fowles  about  them  fluttering  cride, 
And  with  their  wicked  wings  them  ofte  did  smight, 
And  sore  annoyed,  groping  in  that  griesly  night, 

xxxvi.  Even  all  the  nation  of  unfortunate 

And  fatall  birds  about  them  flocked  were, 
Such  as  by  nature  men  abhorre  and  hate; 
The  ill-faste  Owle,  deaths  dreadfull  messengere; 
The  hoars  Night-raven,  trump  of  dolefull  drere ; 
The  lether- winged  Batt,  dayes  enimy; 
The  ruefull  Strich,  still  waiting  on  the  bere  ;1 
The  whistler  shrill,  that  whoso  heares  doth  dy; 
The  hellish  Harpyes,  prophets  of  sad  destiny. 

xxxvii.  All  those,  and  all  that  els  does  horror  breed, 

About  them  flew,  and  fild  their  sayles  with  feare: 
Yet  stayd  they  not,  but  forward  did  proceed, 
Whiles  th'  one  did  row,  and  th'  other  stifly  steare; 
Till  that  at  last  the  weather  gan  to  cleare, 
And  the  faire  land  it  selfe  did  playnly  sheow. 
Said  then  the  Palmer;  "Lo!  where  does  appeare 
The  sacred  soile  where  all  our  perilb  grow. 
Therfore,  Sir  knight,  your  ready  arms  about  you  throw." 

xxxviii.  He  hearkned,  and  his  armes  about  him  tooke, 
The  whiles  the  nimble  bote  so  well  her  sped, 
That  with  her  crooked  keele  the  land  she  strooke: 
Then  forth  the  noble  Guyon  sallied, 
And  his  sage  Palmer  that  him  governed  ; 
But  th'  other  by  his  bote  behind  did  stay. 
They  marched  fayrly  forth,  of  nought  ydred. 
Both  firmely  armd  for  every  hard  assay, 
WTith  constancy  and  care,  gainst  daunger  and  dismay. 

Book  II — Canto  XII  323 

xxxix.  Ere  long  they  heard  an  hideous  bellowing 
Of  many  beasts,  that  roard  outrageously, 
As  if  that  hungers  poynt  or  Venus  sting 
Had  them  enraged  with  fell  surquedry: 
Yet  nought  they  feard,  but  past  on  hardily, 
Untill  they  came  in  vew  of  those  wilde  beasts, 
Who  all  attonce,  gaping  full  greedily, 
And  rearing  fercely  their  upstaring  crests, 
Ran  towards  to  devoure  those  unexpected  guests, 

XL.  But  soone  as  they  approcht  with  deadly  threat, 
The  Palmer  over  them  his  staffe  upheld, 
His  mighty  staffe,  that  could  all  charmes  defeat. 
Eftesoones  their  stubborne  corages  were  queld, 
And  high  advaunced  crests  downe  meekely  feld; 
Instead  of  fraying,  they  them  selves  did  feare, 
And  trembled  as  them  passing  they  beheld: 
Such  wondrous  powre  did  in  that  staffe  appeare, 
All  monsters  to  subdew  to  him  that  did  it  beare, 

xli.  Of  that  same  wood  it  fram'd  was  cunningly, 
Of  which  Caduceus  whilome  was  made, 
Caduceus,  the  rod  of  Mercury, 
With  which  he  wonts  the  Stygian  realmes  invade 
Through  ghastly  horror  and  eternall  shade : 
Th'  infernall  feends  with  it  he  can  asswage, 
And  Orcus  tame,  whome  nothing  can  persuade, 
And  rule  the  Furyes  when  they  most  doe  rage. 
Such  vertue  in  his  staffe  had  eke  this  Palmer  sage. 

XLii.  Thence  passing  forth,  they  shortly  doe  arryve 
Whereas  the  Bowre  of  Blisse  wras  situate; 
A  place  pickt  out  by  choyce  of  best  alyve, 
That  natures  worke  by  art  can  imitate: 
In  which  whatever  in  this  worldly  state 
Is  sweete  and  pleasing  unto  living  sense, 
Or  that  may  dayntest  fantasy  aggrate, 
Was  poured  forth  with  plentifull  dispence, 
And  made  there  to  abound  with  lavish  affluence, 

xliii.  Goodly  it  was  enclosed  rownd  about, 

As  well  their  entred  guestes  to  keep  within, 
As  those  unruly  beasts  to  hold  without; 

324  The  Faerie  Queene 

Yet  was  the  fence  thereof  but  weake  and  thin: 
Nought  feard  theyr  force  that  fortilage  to  win, 
But  wisedomes  powre,  and  temperaunces  might, 
By  which  the  mightiest  things  eflorced  bin: 
And  eke  the  gate  was  wrought  of  substaunce  light, 
Rather  for  pleasure  then  for  battery  or  fight. 

xliv.  Yt  framed  was  of  precious  yvory, 

That  seemd  a  worke  of  admirable  witt; 

And  therein  all  the  famous  history 

Of  Jason  and  Medaea  was  ywritt; 

Her  mighty  charmes,  her  furious  loving  fitt; 

His  goodly  conquest  of  the  golden  fleece, 

His  falsed  fayth,  and  love  too  lightly  flitt; 

The  wondred  Argo,  which  in  venturous  peece 

First  through  the  Euxine  seas  bore  all  the  flowr  of  Greece. 

xlv.  Ye  might  have  seene  the  frothy  billowes  fry 
Under  the  ship  as  thorough  them  she  went, 
That  seemd  the  waves  were  into  yvory, 
Or  yvory  into  the  waves  were  sent; 
And  otherwhere  the  snowy  substaunce  sprent 
With  vermeil,  like  the  boyes  blood  therein  shed, 
A  piteous  spectacle  did  represent; 
And  otherwhiles,  with  gold  besprinkeled, 
Yt  seemd  thenchaunted  flame  which  did  Creusa  wed. 

xlvi.  All  this  and  more  might  in  that  goodly  gate 
Be  red,  that  ever  open  stood  to  all 
Which  thither  came;  but  in  the  Porch  there  sate 
A  comely  personage  of  stature  tall, 
And  semblaunce  pleasing,  more  then  naturall, 
That  traveilers  to  him  seemd  to  entize: 
His  looser  garment  to  the  ground  did  fall, 
And  flew  about  his  heeles  in  wanton  wize, 
Not  fitt  for  speedy  pace,  or  manly  exercize. 

xl vii.  They  in  that  place  him  Genius  did  call: 

Not  that  celestiall  powre,  to  whom  the  care 
Of  life,  and  generation  of  all 
That  lives,  perteines  in  charge  particulare, 
Who  wondrous  things  concerning  our  welfare, 
And  straunge  phantomes  doth  lett  us  ofte  foresee, 


Book  II — Canto  XII  325 

And  ofte  of  secret  ill  bids  us  beware: 

That  is  our  Selfe,  whom  though  we  do  not  see, 

Yet  each  doth  in  him  selfe  it  well  perceive  to  bee. 

xlviii.  Therefore  a  God  him  sage  Antiquity 

Did  wisely  make,  and  good  Agdistes  call; 

But  this  same  was  to  that  quite  contrary, 

The  foe  of  life,  that  good  envyes  to  all, 

That  secretly  doth  us  procure  to  fall 

Through  guilefull  semblants  which  he  makes  us  see: 

He  of  this  Gardin  had  the  governall, 

And  Pleasures  porter  was  devizd  to  bee, 

Holding  a  staffe  in  hand  for  mere  formalitee. 

xlix.  With  diverse  flowres  he  daintily  was  deckt, 
And  strowed  rownd  about;  and  by  his  side 
A  mighty  Mazer  bowle  of  wine  was  sett, 
As  if  it  had  to  him  bene  sacrifide, 
Wherewith  all  new-come  guests  he  gratyfide: 
So  did  he  eke  Sir  Guyon  passing  by; 
But  he  his  ydle  curtesie  defide, 
And  overthrew  his  bowle  disdainfully, 
And  broke  his  staffe  with  which  he  charmed  semblants 

L.  Thus  being  entred,  they  behold  arownd 
A  large  and  spacious  plaine,  on  every  side 
Strowed  with  pleasauns;  whose  fayre  grassy  grownd 
Mantled  with  greene,  and  goodly  beautifide 
With  all  the  ornaments  of  Floraes  pride, 
Wherewith  her  mother  Art,  as  halfe  in  scorne 
Of  niggard  Nature,  like  a  pompous  bride 
Did  decke  her,  and  too  lavishly  adorne, 
When  forth  from  virgin  bowre  she  comes  in  th'  early 

li.  Therewith  the  Heavens  alwayes  joviall 

Lookte  on  them  lovely,  still  in  stedfast  state, 
Ne  suffred  storme  nor  frost  on  them  to  fall, 
Their  tender  buds  or  leaves  to  violate ; 
Nor  scorching  heat,  nor  cold  intemperate, 
T'  afflict  the  creatures  which  therein  did  dwell; 
But  the  milde  ayre  with  season  moderate 

326  The  Faerie  Queene 

Gently  attempred,  and  disposd  so  well, 
That  still  it  breathed  forth  sweet  spirit  and  holesom 

lii.  More  sweet  and  holesome  then  the  pleasaunt  hill 
Of  Rhodope,  on  which  the  Nimphe  that  bore 
A  gyaunt  babe  herself e  for  grief e  did  kill; 
Or  the  Thessalian  Tempe,  where  of  yore 
Fayre  Daphne  Phcebus  hart  with  love  did  gore ; 
Or  Ida,  where  the  Gods  lov'd  to  repay  re, 
When  ever  they  their  heavenly  bowres  forlore ; 
Or  sweet  Parnasse,  the  haunt  of  Muses  fayre ; 
Or  Eden  selfe,  if  ought  with  Eden  mote  compayre. 

liii.  Much  wondred  Guy  on  at  the  fayre  aspect 
Of  that  sweet  place,  yet  surlred  no  delight 
To  sincke  into  his  sence,  nor  mind  affect, 
But  passed  forth,  and  lookt  still  forward  right, 
Brydling  his  will  and  maystering  his  might, 
Till  that  he  came  unto  another  gate; 
No  gate,  but  like  one,  being  goodly  dight 
With  bowes  and  braunches,  which  did  broad  dilate 
Their  clasping  armes  in  wanton  wreathings  intricate : 

liv.  So  fashioned  a  Porch  with  rare  device. 
Archt  over  head  with  an  embracing  vine, 
Whose  bounches  hanging  downe  seemd  to  entice 
All  passers  by  to  taste  their  lushious  wine, 
And  did  them  selves  into  their  hands  incline, 
As  freely  offering  to  be  gathered; 
Some  deepe  empurpled  as  the  Hyacine, 
Some  as  the  Rubine  laughing  sweetely  red, 
Some  like  faire  Emeraudes,  not  yet  well  ripened. 

lv.  And  them  amongst  some  were  of  burnisht  gold, 
So  made  by  art  to  beautify  the  rest, 
Which  did  themselves  emongst  the  leaves  enfold, 
As  lurking  from  the  vew  of  covetous  guest, 
That  the  weake  boughes,  with  so  rich  load  opprest 
Did  bow  adowne  as  overburdened. 
Under  that  Porch  a  comely  dame  did  rest 
Clad  in  fayre  weedes  but  fowle  disordered, 
And  garments  loose  that  seemd  unmeet  for  womanhed. 

Book  II — Canto  XII  327 

lvi.  In  her  left  hand  a  Cup  of  gold  she  held, 

And  with  her  right  the  riper  fruit  did  reach, 

Whose  sappy  liquor,  that  with  fulnesse  sweld, 

Into  her  cup  she  scruzd  with  daintie  breach 

Of  her  fine  fingers,  without  fowle  empeach, 

That  so  faire  winepresse  made  the  wine  more  sweet: 

Thereof  she  usd  to  give  to  drinke  to  each, 

Whom  passing  by  she  happened  to  meet: 

It  was  her  guise  all  Straungers  goodly  so  to  greet. 

lvii.  So  she  to  Guyon  ofTred  it  to  tast, 

Who,  taking  it  out  of  her  tender  hond, 

The  cup  to  ground  did  violently  cast, 

That  all  in  peeces  it  was  broken  fond, 

And  with  the  liquor  stained  all  the  lond: 

Whereat  Excesse  exceedingly  was  wroth, 

Yet  no'te  the  same  amend,  ne  yet  withstond, 

But  suffered  him  to  passe,  all  were  she  loth; 

Who,  nought  regarding  her  displeasure,  forward  goth. 

lviii.  There  the  most  daintie  Paradise  on  ground 
It  selfe  doth  offer  to  his  sober  eye, 
In  which  all  pleasures  plenteously  abownd, 
And  none  does  others  happinesse  envye; 
The  painted  flowres,  the  trees  upshooting  hye, 
The  dales  for  shade,  the  hilles  for  breathing  space, 
The  trembling  groves,  the  christall  running  by, 
And,  that  which  all  faire  workes  doth  most  aggrace, 
The  art  which  all  that  wrought  appeared  in  no  place. 

lix.  One  would  have  thought,  (so  cunningly  the  rude 
And  scorned  partes  were  mingled  with  the  fine) 
That  nature  had  for  wantonesse  ensude 
Art,  and  that  Art  at  nature  did  repine ; 
So  striving  each  th'  other  to  undermine, 
Each  did  the  others  worke  more  beautify; 
So  difTring  both  in  willes  agreed  in  fine: 
So  all  agreed,  through  sweet  diversity, 
This  Gardin  to  adorne  with  all  variety. 

lx.  And  in  the  midst  of  ail  a  fountaine  stood, 
Of  richest  substance  that  on  earth  might  bee, 
So  pure  and  shiny  that  the  silver  flood 

328  The  Faerie  Queene 

Through  every  channell  running  one  might  see; 

Most  goodly  it  with  curious  ymageree 

Was  overwrought,  and  shapes  of  naked  boyes, 

Of  which  some  seemd  with  lively  jollitee 

To  fly  about,  playing  their  wanton  toyes, 

Whylest  others  did  them  selves  embay  in  liquid  joyes. 

lxi.  And  over  all  of  purest  gold  was  spred 
A  trayle  of  yvie  in  his  native  hew; 
For  the  rich  metall  was  so  coloured, 
That  wight  who  did  not  well  avis'd  it  vew 
Would  surely  deeme  it  to  bee  yvie  trew : 
Low  his  lascivious  armes  adown  did  creepe, 
That  themselves  dipping  in  the  silver  dew 
Their  fleecy  flowres  they  fearefully  did  steepe, 
Which  drops  of  Christall  seemd  for  wantones  to  weep. 

lxii.  Infinit  streames  continually  did  well 

Out  of  this  fountaine,  sweet  and  faire  to  see, 

The  which  into  an  ample  laver  fell, 

And  shortly  grew  into  so  great  quantitie, 

That  like  a  litle  lake  it  seemd  to  bee; 

Whose  depth  exceeded  not  three  cubits  hight, 

That  through  the  waves  one  might  the  bottom  see, 

All  pav'd  beneath  with  Jaspar  shining  bright, 

That  seemd  the  fountaine  in  that  sea  did  sayle  upright. 

lxiii.  And  all  the  margent  round  about  was  sett 
With  shady  Laurell  trees,  thence  to  defend 
The  sunny  beames  which  on  the  billowes  bett 
And  those  which  therein  bathed  mote  offend. 
As  Guyon  hapned  by  the  same  to  wend, 
Two  naked  Damzelles  he  therein  espyde, 
Which  therein  bathing  seemed  to  contend 
And  wrestle  wantonly,  ne  car'd  to  hyde 
Their  dainty  partes  from  vew  of  any  which  them  eyd. 

lxiv.  Sometimes  the  one  would  lift  the  other  quight 
Above  the  waters,  and  then  downe  againe 
Her  plong,  as  over-maystered  by  might, 
Where  both  awhile  would  covered  remaine, 
And  each  the  other  from  to  rise  restraine; 
The  whiles  their  snowy  limbes,  as  through  a  vele, 

Book  II — Canto  XII 


So  through  the  christall  waves  appeared  plaine : 
Then  suddeinly  both  would  themselves  unhele, 
And  th'  amarous  sweet  spoiles  to  greedy  eyes  revele. 

lxv.  As  that  faire  Starre,  the  messenger  of  morne, 
His  deawy  face  out  of  the  sea  doth  reare; 
Or  as  the  Cyprian  goddesse,  newly  borne 
Of  th'  Ocean's  fruitfull  froth,  did  first  appeare: 
Such  seemed  they,  and  so  their  yellow  heare 
Christalline  humor  dropped  downe  apace. 
Whom  such  when  Guyon  saw,  he  drew  him  neare, 
And  somewhat  gan  relent  his  earnest  pace; 
His  stubborne  brest  gan  secret  pleasaunce  to  embrace. 

lxvi.  The  wanton  Maidens,  him  espying,  stood 
Gazing  awhile  at  his  unwonted  guise; 
Then  th'  one  her  selfe  low  ducked  in  the  flood, 
Abasht  that  her  a  straunger  did  avise; 
But  thother  rather  higher  did  arise, 
And  her  two  lilly  paps  aloft  displayd, 
And  all  that  might  his  melting  hart  entyse 
To  her  delights  she  unto  him  bewrayd ; 
The  rest  hidd  underneath  him  more  desirous  made. 

lxvii.  With  that  the  other  likewise  up  arose, 

And  her  faire  lockes,  which  formerly  were  bownd 
Up  in  one  knott,  she  low  adowne  did  lose, 
Which  flowing  low  and  thick  her  cloth'd  arownd, 
And  th'  yvorie  in  golden  mantle  gownd : 
So  that  faire  spectacle  from  him  was  reft, 
Yet  that  which  reft  it  no  lesse  faire  was  fownd. 
So  hidd  in  lockes  and  waves  from  lookers  theft, 
Nought  but  her  lovely  face  she  for  his  looking  left. 

lxviii.  Withall  she  laughed,  and  she  blusht  withall, 

That  blushing  to  her  laughter  gave  more  grace, 
And  laughter  to  her  blushing,  as  did  fall. 
Now  when  they  spyde  the  knight  to  slacke  his  pace 
Them  to  behold,  and  in  his  sparkling  face 
The  secrete  signes  of  kindled  lust  appeare, 
Their  wanton  meriments  they  did  encreace, 
And  to  him  beckned  to  approch  more  neare, 
And  shewd  him  many  sights  that  corage  cold  could 

330  The  Faerie  Queene 

lxix.  On  which  when  gazing  him  the  Palmer  saw, 
He  much  rebukt  those  wandring  eyes  of  his, 
And  counseld  well  him  forward  thence  did  draw. 
Now  are  they  come  nigh  to  the  Bowre  of  blis, 
Of  her  fond  favorites  so  nam'd  amis, 
When  thus  the  Palmer:  "  Now,  Sir,  well  avise; 
For  here  the  end  of  all  our  traveill  is : 
Here  wonnes  Acrasia,  whom  we  must  surprise, 
Els  she  will  slip  away,  and  all  our  drift  despise." 

lxx.  Eftsoones  they  heard  a  most  melodious  sound, 
Of  all  that  mote  delight  a  daintie  eare, 
Such  as  attonce  might  not  on  living  ground, 
Save  in  this  Paradise,  be  heard  elsewhere : 
Right  hard  it  was  for  wight  which  did  it  heare, 
To  read  what  manner  musicke  that  mote  bee ; 
For  all  that  pleasing  is  to  living  eare 
Was  there  consorted  in  one  harmonee ; 
Birdes,  voices,  instruments,  windes,  waters,  all  agree: 

lxxi.  The  joyous  birdes,  shrouded  in  chearefull  shade 
Their  notes  unto  the  voice  attempred  sweet; 
Th'  Angelicall  soft  trembling  voyces  made 
To  th'  instruments  divine  respondence  meet; 
The  silver  sounding  instruments  did  meet 
With  the  base  murmure  of  the  waters  fall; 
The  waters  fall  with  difference  discreet, 
Now  soft,  now  loud,  unto  the  wind  did  call ; 
The  gentle  warbling  wind  low  answered  to  all. 

lxxii.  There,  whence  that  Musick  seemed  heard  to  bee, 
Was  the  faire  Witch  her  selfe  now  solacing 
With  a  new  Lover,  whom,  through  sorceree 
And  witchcraft,  she  from  farre  did  thither  bring: 
There  she  had  him  now  laid  aslombering 
In  secret  shade  after  long  wanton  joyes ; 
Whilst  round  about  them  pleasauntly  did  sing 
Many  faire  Ladies  and  lascivious  boyes. 
That  ever  mixt  their  song  with  light  licentious  toyes. 

lxxiii.  And  all  that  while  right  over  him  she  hong 
With  her  false  eyes  fast  fixed  in  his  sight, 
As  seeking  medicine  whence  she  was  stong, 

Book  II — Canto  XII  331 

Or  greedily  depasturing  delight; 

And  oft  inclining  downe,  with  kisses  light 

For  feare  of  waking  him,  his  lips  bedewd, 

And  through  his  humid  eyes  did  sucke  his  spright, 

Quite  molten  into  lust  and  pleasure  lewd; 

Wherewith  she  sighed  soft,  as  if  his  case  she  rewd, 

lxxiv.  The  whiles  some  one  did  chaunt  this  lovely  lay: 
Ah !  see,  whoso  fayre  thing  doest  faine  to  see, 
In  springing  flowre  the  image  of  thy  day. 
Ah !  see  the  Virgin  Rose,  how  sweetly  shee 
Doth  first  peepe  foorth  with  bashfull  modestee, 
That  fairer  seemes  the  lesse  ye  see  her  may. 
Lo !  see  soone  after  how  more  bold  and  free 
Her  bared  bosome  she  doth  broad  display; 
Lo !  see  soone  after  how  she  fades  and  falls  away. 

lxxv.  So  passeth,  in  the  passing  of  a  day, 

Of  mortall  life  the  leafe,  the  bud,  the  flowre; 

Ne  more  doth  florish  after  first  decay, 

That  earst  was  sought  to  deck  both  bed  and  bowre 

Of  many  a  lady',  and  many  a  Paramowre. 

Gather  therefore  the  Rose  whilest  yet  is  prime, 

For  soone  comes  age  that  will  her  pride  deflowre ; 

Gather  the  Rose  of  love  whilest  yet  is  time, 

Whilest  loving  thou  mayst  loved  be  with  equall  crime. 

lxxvi.  He  ceast;  and  then  gan  all  the  quire  of  birdes 
Their  diverse  notes  t'attune  unto  his  lay, 
As  in  approvaunce  of  his  pleasing  wordes, 
The  constant  payre  heard  all  that  he  did  say, 
Yet  swarved  not,  but  kept  their  forward  way 
Through  many  covert  groves  and  thickets  close, 
In  which  they  creeping  did  at  last  display 
That  wanton  Lady  with  her  lover  lose, 
Whose  sleepie  head  she  in  her  lap  did  soft  dispose, 

lxxvii.  Upon  a  bed  of  Roses  she  was  layd, 

As  faint  through  heat,  or  dight  to  pleasant  sin; 

And  was  arayd,  or  rather  disarayd, 

All  in  a  vele  of  silke  and  silver  thin, 

That  hid  no  whit  her  alablaster  skin, 

But  rather  shewd  more  white,  if  more  might  bee : 

More  subtile  web  Arachne  cannot  spin; 

32%  The  Faerie  Queene 

Nor  the  fine  nets,  which  oft  we  woven  see 

Of  scorched  deaw,  do  not  in  th'  ayre  more  lightly  flee. 

lxxviii.  Her  snowy  brest  was  bare  to  ready  spoyle 

Of  hungry  eies,  which  n'ote  therewith  be  fild ; 
And  yet,  through  languour  of  her  late  sweet  toyle, 
Few  drops,  more  cleare  then  Nectar,  forth  distild, 
That  like  pure  Orient  perles  adowne  it  trild ; 
And  her  faire  eyes,  sweet  smyling  in  delight, 
Moystened  their  fierie  beames,  with  which  she  thrild 
Fraile  harts,  yet  quenched  not;  like  starry  light, 
Which,  sparckling  on  the  silent  waves,  does  seeme  more 

lxxix.  The  young  man,  sleeping  by  her,  seemd  to  be 
Some  goodly  swayne  of  honorable  place, 
That  certes  it  great  pitty  was  to  see 
Him  his  nobility  so  fowle  deface : 
A  sweet  regard  and  amiable  grace, 
Mixed  with  manly  sternesse,  did  appeare, 
Yet  sleeping,  in  his  well  proportiond  face; 
And  on  his  tender  lips  the  downy  heare 
Did  now  but  freshly  spring,  and  silken  blossoms  beare. 

lxxx.  His  warlike  Armes,  the  ydle  instruments 
Of  sleeping  praise,  were  hong  upon  a  tree ; 
And  his  brave  shield,  full  of  old  moniments, 
Was  f owly  ras't,  that  none  the  signes  might  see : 
Ne  for  them  ne  for  honour  cared  hee, 
Ne  ought  that  did  to  his  advauncement  tend ; 
But  in  lewd  loves,  and  wastfull  luxuree, 
His  dayes,  his  goods,  his  bodie,  he  did  spend : 
0  horrible  enchantment,  that  him  so  did  blend ! 

lxxxi.  The  noble  Elfe  and  carefull  Palmer  drew 

So  nigh  them,  minding  nought  but  lustfull  game, 
That  suddein  forth  they  on  them  rusht,  and  threw 
A  subtile  net,  which  only  for  that  same 
The  skilfull  Palmer  formally  did  frame : 
So  held  them  under  fast;  the  whiles  the  rest 
Fled  all  away  for  feare  of  fowler  shame. 
The  faire  Enchauntresse,  so  unwares  opprest, 
Tryde  all  her  arts  and  all  her  sleights  thence  out  to 

Book  II — Canto  XII  333 

lxxxii.  And  eke  her  lover  strove,  but  all  in  vaine; 
For  that  same  net  so  cunningly  was  wound, 
That  neither  guile  nor  force  might  it  distraine. 
They  tooke  them  both,  and  both  them  strongly  bound 
In  captives  bandes,  which  there  they  readie  found: 
But  her  in  chaines  of  adamant  he  tyde; 
For  nothing  else  might  keepe  her  safe  and  sound: 
But  Verdant  (so  he  hight)  he  soone  untyde, 
And  counsell  sage  in  steed  thereof  to  him  applyde. 

lxxxiii.  But  all  those  pleasaunt  bowres,  and  Pallace  brave, 
Guyon  broke  downe  with  rigour  pittilesse ; 
Ne  ought  their  goodly  workmanship  might  save 
Them  from  the  tempest  of  his  wrathfulnesse, 
But  that  their  blisse  he  turn'd  to  balefulnesse. 
Their  groves  he  feld;  their  gardins  did  deface; 
Their  arbers  spoyle ;  their  Cabinets  suppresse ; 
Their  banket  houses  burne;  their  buildings  race; 
And,  of  the  fayrest  late,  now  made  the  fowlest  place* 

lxxxiv.  Then  led  they  her  away,  and  eke  that  knight 
They  with  them  led,  both  sorrowfull  and  sad. 
The  way  they  came,  the  same  retourn'd  they  right, 
Till  they  arrived  where  they  lately  had 
Charm'd  those  wild-beasts  that  rag'd  with  furie  mad; 
Which,  now  awaking,  fierce  at  them  gan  fly, 
As  in  their  mistresse  reskew  whom  they  lad; 
But  them  the  Palmer  soone  did  pacify. 
Then  Guyon  askt,  what  meant  those  beast es  which 
there  did  ly? 

lxxxv.  Sayd  he ;  "  These  seeming  beasts  are  men  indeed, 
Whom  this  Enchauntress  hath  transformed  thus; 
Whylome  her  lovers,  which  her  lustes  did  feed, 
Now  turned  into  figures  hideous, 
According  to  their  mindes  like  monstruous.,, 
"  Sad  end,"  (quoth  he)  "  of  life  intemperate, 
And  mourneful  meed  of  joyes  delicious! 
But,  Palmer,  if  it  mote  thee  so  aggrate, 
Let  them  returned  be  unto  their  former  state." 

lxxxvi.  Streight  way  he  with  his  vertuous  stafTe  them  strooke, 
And  streight  of  beastes  they  comely  men  became ; 

334  The  Faerie  Queene 

Yet  being  men  they  did  unmanly  looke, 

And  stared  ghastly;  some  for  inward  shame, 

And  some  for  wrath  to  see  their  captive  Dame : 

But  one  above  the  rest  in  speciall 

That  had  an  hog  beene  late,  hight  Grylle  by  name, 

Repyned  greatly  and  did  him  miscall 

That  had  from  hoggish  forme  him  brought  to  naturall. 

lxxxvii.  Saide  Guyon;  "  See  the  mind  of  beastly  man, 
That  hath  so  soone  forgot  the  excellence 
Of  his  creation,  when  he  life  began, 
That  now  he  chooseth  with  vile  difference 
To  be  a  beast,  and  lacke  intelligence  i  " 
To  whom  the  Palmer  thus:   "  The  donghill  kinde 
Delightes  in  filth  and  f owle  incontinence : 
Let  Gryll  be  Gryll,  and  have  his  hoggish  minde; 
But  let  us  hence  depart  whilest  wether  serves  and 



i.  It  falls  me  here  to  write  of  Chastity, 
The  fayrest  vertue,  far  above  the  rest: 
For  which  what  needes  me  fetch  from  Faery 
Forreine  ensamples  it  to  have  exprest? 
Sith  it  is  shrined  in  my  Soveraines  brest, 
And  formd  so  lively  in  each  perfect  part, 
That  to  all  Ladies,  which  have  it  prof  est, 
Need  but  behold  the  pourtraict  of  her  hart; 
If  pourtrayd  it  might  bee  by  any  living  art. 

II.  But  living  art  may  not  least  part  expresse, 
Nor  life-resembling  pencill  it  can  paynt: 
All  were  it  Zeuxis  or  Praxiteles, 
His  daedale  hand  would  faile  and  greatly  faynt, 
And  her  perfections  with  his  error  tay nt : 
Ne  Poets  witt,  that  passeth  Painter  farre 
In  picturing  the  parts  of  beauty  daynt, 
So  hard  a  workemanship  adventure  darre, 
For  feare,  through  want  of  words,  her  excellence  to 

in.  How  then  shall  I,  Apprentice  to  the  skill 
That  whilome  in  divinest  wits  did  rayne, 
Presume  so  high  to  stretch  mine  humble  quill  ? 
Yet  now  my  lucklesse  lott  doth  me  constrayne 
Hereto  perforce.     But,  0  dredd  Soverayne! 
Thus  far-forth  pardon,  sith  that  choicest  witt 
Cannot  your  glorious  pourtraict  figure  playne, 
That  I  in  colourd  showes  may  shadow  itt, 
And  antique  praises  unto  present  persons  fitt, 

iv.  But  if  in  living  colours,  and  right  hew, 
Thy  selfe  thou  covet  to  see  pictured, 
Who  can  it  doe  more  lively,  or  more  trew, 
Then  that  sweete  verse,  with  Nectar  sprinckeled, 

336  The  Faerie  Queene 

In  which  a  gracious  servaunt  pictured 
His  Cynthia,  his  heavens  fayrest  light? 
That  with  his  melting  sweetnes  ravished, 
And  with  the  wonder  of  her  beames  bright, 
My  sences  lulled  are  in  slomber  of  delight. 

v.  But  let  that  same  delitious  Poet  lend 
A  little  leave  unto  a  rusticke  Muse 
To  sing  his  mistresse  prayse;  and  let  him  mend. 
If  ought  amis  her  liking  may  abuse : 
Ne  let  his  fayrest  Cynthia  refuse 
In  mirrours  more  then  one  her  selfe  to  see; 
But  either  Gloriana  let  her  chuse, 
Or  in  Belphcebe  fashioned  to  bee; 
In  th'  one  her  rule,  in  th'  other  her  rare  chastitee. 

Book  III — Canto  I  337 


Guyon  encountreth  Britomart: 
Fayre  Florimell  is  chaced : 
Duessaes  traines  and  Malecas- 
taes  champions  are  defaced. 

I.  The  famous  Briton  Prince  and  Faery  knight, 
After  long  wayes  and  perilous  paines  endur'd, 
Having  their  weary  limbes  to  perfect  plight 
Restord,  and  sory  wounds  right  well  recur'd, 
Of  the  faire  Alma  greatly  were  procur'd 
To  make  there  lenger  sojourne  and  abode; 
But  when  thereto  they  might  not  be  allur'd, 
From  seeking  praise  and  deeds  of  armes  abrode, 
They  courteous  conge  tooke,  and  forth  together  yode. 

11.  But  the  captiv'd  Acrasia  he  sent, 
Because  of  traveill  long,  a  nigher  way, 
With  a  strong  gard,  all  reskew  to  prevent, 
And  her  to  Faery  court  safe  to  convay ; 
That  her  for  witnes  of  his  hard  assay 
Unto  his  Faery  Queene  he  might  present: 
But  he  him  selfe  betooke  another  way, 
To  make  more  triall  of  his  hardiment, 
And  seek  adventures  as  he  with  Prince  Arthure  went. 

in.  Long  so  they  traveiled  through  wastefull  wayes, 
Where  daungers  dwelt,  and  perils  most  did  wonne, 
To  hunt  for  glory  and  renowmed  prayse. 
Full  many  Countreyes  they  did  overronne, 
From  the  uprising  to  the  setting  Sunne, 
And  many  hard  adventures  did  atchieve; 
Of  all  the  which  they  honour  ever  wonne, 
Seeking  the  weake  oppressed  to  relieve, 
And  to  recover  right  for  such  as  wrong  did  grieve. 

iv.  At  last,  as  through  an  open  plaine  they  yode, 
They  spide  a  knight  that  towards  pricked  fayre ; 
And  him  beside  an  aged  Squire  there  rode, 

338  The  Faerie  Queene 

That  seemd  to  couch  under  his  shield  three-square, 
As  if  that  age  badd  him  that  burden  spare, 
And  yield  it  those  that  stouter  could  it  wield. 
He  them  espying  gan  him  selfe  prepare, 
And  on  his  arme  addresse  his  goodly  shield 
That  bore  a  Lion  passant  in  a  golden  field. 

V.  Which  seeing,  good  Sir  Guyon  deare  besought 
The  Prince  of  grace  to  let  him  ronne  that  turne. 
He  graunted :  then  the  Faery  quickly  raught 
His  poynant  speare,  and  sharply  gan  to  spume 
His  fomy  steed,  whose  fiery  feete  did  burne 
The  verdant  gras  as  he  thereon  did  tread; 
Ne  did  the  other  backe  his  foote  returne, 
But  fiercely  forward  came  withouten  dread, 
And  bent  his  dreadful  speare  against  the  others  head. 

VI.  They  beene  ymett,  and  both  theyr  points  arriv'd ; 
But  Guyon  drove  so  furious  and  fell, 
That  seemd  both  shield  and  plate  it  would  have  riv'd; 
Nathelesse  it  bore  his  foe  not  from  his  sell, 
But  made  him  stagger,  as  he  were  not  well : 
But  Guyon  selfe,  ere  well  he  was  aware, 
Nigh  a  speares  length  behind  his  crouper  fell; 
Yet  in  his  fall  so  well  him  selfe  he  bare, 
That  mischievous  mischaunce  his  life  and  limbs  did  spare. 

vii.  Great  shame  and  sorrow  of  that  fall  he  tooke; 
For  never  yet,  sith  warlike  armes  he  bore 
And  shivering  speare  in  bloody  field  first  shooke, 
He  fownd  him  selfe  dishonored  so  sore. 
Ah !  gentlest  knight,  that  ever  armor  bore, 
Let  not  thee  grieve  dismounted  to  have  beene, 
And  brought  to  grownd  that  never  wast  before; 
For  not  thy  fault,  but  secret  powre  unseene : 
That  speare  enchaunted  was  which  layd  thee  on  the  greene. 

viii.  But  weenedst  thou  what  wight  thee  overthrew, 
Much  greater  griefe  and  shamefuller  regrett 
For  thy  hard  fortune  then  thou  wouldst  renew, 
That  of  a  single  damzell  thou  wert  mett 
On  equall  plaine,  and  there  so  hard  besett: 
Even  the  famous  Britomart  it  was, 

Book  III — Canto  I  339 

Whom  straunge  adventure  did  from  Britayne  sett 

To  seeke  her  lover  (love  far  sought  alas !) 

Whose  image  shee  had  seene  in  Venus  looking  glas. 

ix.  Full  of  disdainefull  wrath  he  fierce  uprose 
For  to  revenge  that  fowle  reprochefull  shame, 
And  snatching  his  bright  sword  began  to  close 
With  her  on  foot,  and  stoutly  forward  came: 
Dye  rather  would  he  then  endure  that  same. 
Which  when  his  Palmer  saw,  he  gan  to  feare 
His  toward  perill,  and  untoward  blame, 
Which  by  that  new  rencounter  he  should  reare ; 
For  death  sate  on  the  point  of  that  enchaunted  speare: 

x.  And  hasting  towards  him  gan  fayre  perswade 
Not  to  provoke  misfortune,  nor  to  weene 
His  speares  default  to  mend  with  cruell  blade; 
For  by  his  mightie  Science  he  had  seene 
The  secrete  vertue  of  that  weapon  keene, 
That  mortall  puissaunce  mote  not  withstond. 
Nothing  on  earth  mote  alwaies  happy  beene: 
Great  hazard  were  it,  and  adventure  fond, 
To  loose  long  gotten  honour  with  one  evill  hond. 

xi.  By  such  good  meanes  he  him  discounselled 
From  prosecuting  his  revenging  rage  : 
And  eke  the  Prince  like  treaty  handeled, 
His  wrathfull  will  with  reason  to  aswage; 
And  laid  the  blame,  not  to  his  carriage, 
But  to  his  starting  steed  that  swarv'd  asyde, 
And  to  the  ill  purveyaunce  of  his  page, 
That  had  his  furnitures  not  firmely  tyde. 
So  is  his  angry  corage  fayrly  pacifyde. 

xii.  Thus  reconcilement  was  betweene  them  knitt, 

Through  goodly  temperaunce  and  affection  chaste; 
And  either  vowd  with  all  their  power  and  witt 
To  let  not  others  honour  be  defaste 
Of  friend  or  foe,  who  ever  it  embaste; 
Ne  armes  to  beare  against  the  others  syde: 
In  which  accord  the  Prince  was  also  plaste, 
And  with  that  golden  chaine  of  concord  tyde. 
So  goodly  all  agreed  they  forth  yfere  did  ryde, 

340  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  0 !  goodly  usage  of  those  antique  tymes, 

In  which  the  sword  was  servaunt  unto  right ; 
When  not  for  malice  and  contentious  crymes, 
But  all  for  prayse,  and  proofe  of  manly  might. 
The  martiall  brood  accustomed  to  fight: 
Then  honour  was  the  meed  of  victory, 
And  yet  the  vanquished  had  no  despight. 
Let  later  age  that  noble  use  envy, 
Vyle  rancor  to  avoid  and  cruel  surquedry. 

xiv.  Long  they  thus  travelled  in  friendly  wise, 

Through  countreyes  waste,  and  eke  well  edifyde, 

Seeking  adventures  hard,  to  exercise 

Their  puissaunce,  whylome  full  dernly  tryde. 

At  length  they  came  into  a  forest  wyde, 

Whose  hideous  horror  and  sad  trembling  sownd, 

Full  griesly  seemd :  Therein  they  long  did  ryde, 

Yet  tract  of  living  creature  none  they  fownd, 

Save  Beares,  Lyons,  and  Buls,  which  romed  them  arownd. 

xv.  All  suddenly  out  of  the  thickest  brush, 
Upon  a  milkwhite  Palfrey  all  alone, 
A  goodly  Lady  did  foreby  them  rush, 
Whose  face  did  seeme  as  cleare  as  Christall  stone, 
And  eke,  through  feare,  as  white  as  whales  bone: 
Her  garments  all  were  wrought  of  beaten  gold, 
And  all  her  steed  with  tinsell  trappings  shone, 
Which  fledd  so  fast  that  nothing  mote  him  hold, 
And  scarse  them  leasure  gave  her  passing  to  behold. 

xvi.  Still  as  she  fledd  her  eye  she  backward  threw, 
As  fearing  evill  that  poursewd  her  fast; 
And  her  faire  yellow  locks  behind  her  new, 
Loosely  disperst  with  puff  of  every  blast: 
All  as  a  blazing  starre  doth  farre  outcast 
His  hearie  beames,  and  flaming  lockes  dispredd, 
At  sight  whereof  the  people  stand  aghast; 
But  the  sage  wisard  telles,  as  he  has  redd, 
That  it  importunes  death  and  dolefull  dreryhedd. 

xvn.  So  as  they  gazed  after  her  a  whyle, 

Lo !  where  a  griesly  foster  forth  did  rush, 
Breathing  out  beastly  lust  her  to  defyle : 

Book  III — Canto  I  341 

His  tyreling  Jade  he  fiersly  forth  did  push 

Through  thicke  and  thin,  both  over  banck  and  bush, 

In  hope  her  to  attaine  by  hooke  or  crooke, 

That  from  his  gory  sydes  the  blood  did  gush. 

Large  were  his  limbes,  and  terrible  his  looke, 

And  in  his  clownish  hand  a  sharp  bore  speare  he  shooke. 

xviii.  Which  outrage  when  those  gentle  knights  did  see, 
Full  of  great  envy  and  fell  gealosy 
They  stayd  not  to  avise  who  first  should  bee, 
But  all  spurd  after,  fast  as  they  mote  fly, 
To  reskew  her  from  shamefull  villany. 
The  Prince  and  Guyon  equally  bylive 
Her  selfe  pursewd,  in  hope  to  win  thereby 
Most  goodly  meede,  the  fairest  Dame  alive: 
But  after  the  foule  foster  Timias  did  strive. 

xix.  The  whiles  faire  Britomart,  whose  constant  mind 
Would  not  so  lightly  follow  beauties  chace, 
Ne  reckt  of  Ladies  Love,  did  stay  behynd, 
And  them  awayted  there  a  certaine  space, 
To  weet  if  they  would  turne  backe  to  that  place ; 
But  when  she  saw  them  gone  she  forward  went, 
As  lay  her  journey,  through  that  perlous  Pace, 
With  stedfast  corage  and  stout  hardiment: 
Ne  evil  thing  she  feard,  ne  evill  thing  she  ment. 

xx.  At  last,  as  nigh  out  of  the  wood  she  came, 
A  stately  Castle  far  away  she  spyde, 
To  which  her  steps  directly  she  did  frame. 
That  Castle  was  most  goodly  edifyde, 
And  plaste  for  pleasure  nigh  that  forrest  syde : 
But  faire  before  the  gate  a  spatious  playne, 
Mantled  with  greene,  it  selfe  did  spredden  wyde, 
On  which  she  saw  six  knights,  that  did  darrayne 
Fiers  battaill  against  one  with  cruell  might  and  mayne. 

xxi.  Mainely  they  all  attonce  upon  him  laid, 
And  sore  beset  on  every  side  arownd, 
That  nigh  he  breathlesse  grew,  yet  nought  dismaid, 
Ne  ever  to  them  yielded  foot  of  grownd, 
All  had  he  lost  much  blood  through  many  a  wownd, 
But  stoutly  dealt  his  blowes,  and  every  way, 

342  The  Faerie  Queene 

To  which  he  turned  in  his  wrathfull  stownd, 
Made  them  recoile,  and  fly  from  dredd  decay, 
That  none  of  all  the  six  before  him  durst  assay. 

xxn.  Like  dastard  Curres  that,  having  at  a  bay 
The  salvage  beast  embost  in  wearie  chace, 
Dare  not  adventure  on  the  stubborne  pray, 
Ne  byte  before,  but  rome  from  place  to  place 
To  get  a  snatch  when  turned  is  his  face. 
In  such  distresse  and  doubtfull  jeopardy 
When  Britomart  him  saw,  she  ran  apace 
Unto  his  reskew,  and  with  earnest  cry 
Badd  those  same  six  forbeare  that  single  enimy. 

xxiii.  But  to  her  cry  they  list  not  lenden  eare, 

Ne  ought  the  more  their  mightie  strokes  surceasse. 

But  gathering  him  rownd  about  more  neare, 

Their  direfull  rancour  rather  did  encreasse; 

Till  that  she  rushing  through  the  thickest  preasse 

Perforce  disparted  their  compacted  gyre, 

And  soone  compeld  to  hearken  unto  peace. 

Tho  gan  she  myldly  of  them  to  inquyre 

The  cause  of  their  dissention  and  outrageous  yre. 

xxiv.  Whereto  that  single  knight  did  answere  frame : 
"  These  six  would  me  enforce  by  oddes  of  might 
To  chaunge  my  liefe,  and  love  another  Dame ; 
That  death  me  liefer  were  then  such  despight, 
So  unto  wrong  to  yield  my  wrested  right: 
For  I  love  one,  the  truest  one  on  grownd, 
Ne  list  me  chaunge ;  she  th'  Errant  Damzell  hight ; 
For  whose  deare  sake  full  many  a  bitter  stownd 
I  have  endurd,  and  tasted  many  a  bloody  wownd.', 

xxv.  "  Certes,"  (said  she)  "  then  beene  ye  sixe  to  blame, 
To  weene  your  wrong  by  force  to  justify; 
For  knight  to  leave  his  Lady  were  great  shame 
That  faithfull  is,  and  better  were  to  dy. 
All  losse  is  lesse,  and  lesse  the  infamy, 
Then  losse  of  love  to  him  that  loves  but  one: 
Ne  may  love  be  compeld  by  maistery; 
For  soone  as  maistery  comes  sweet  Love  anone 
Taketh  his  nimble  winges,  and  soone  away  is  gone." 

Book  III — Canto  I  343 

xxvi.  Then  spake  one  of  those  six;  "  There  dwelleth  here 
Within  this  castle  wall  a  Lady  fayre, 
Whose  soveraine  beau  tie  hath  no  living  pere; 
Thereto  so  bounteous  and  so  debonayre, 
That  never  any  mote  with  her  compayre : 
She  hath  ordaind  this  law,  which  we  approve, 
That  every  knight  which  doth  this  way  repayre, 
In  case  he  have  no  Lady  nor  no  love, 
Shall  doe  unto  her  service,  never  to  remove: 

xxvii.  "  But  if  he  have  a  Lady  or  a  Love, 

Then  must  he  her  forgoe  with  fowle  defame, 

Or  els  with  us  by  dint  of  sword  approve, 

That  she  is  fairer  then  our  fairest  Dame ; 

As  did  this  knight,  before  ye  hither  came.,, 

11  Perdy,"  (said  Britomart)  "  the  choise  is  hard; 

But  what  reward  had  he  that  overcame  ?  " 

11  He  should  advaunced  bee  to  high  regard," 

(Said  they)  "  and  have  our  Ladies  love  for  his  reward. 

xxviii.  "  Therefore  aread,  Sir,  if  thou  have  a  love.,, 

"  Love  hath  I  sure,"  (quoth  she)  "  but  Lady  none; 
Yet  will  I  not  fro  mine  own  love  remove, 
Ne  to  your  Lady  will  I  service  done, 
But  wreake  your  wronges  wrought  to  this  knight  alone, 
And  prove  his  cause."     With  that,  her  mortall  speare 
She  mightily  aventred  towards  one, 
And  downe  him  smot  ere  well  aware  he  weare ; 
Then  to  the  next  she  rode,  and  downe  the  next  did 

xxix.  Ne  did  she  stay  till  three  on  ground  she  layd 
That  none  of  them  himself e  could  reare  againe : 
The  fourth  was  by  that  other  knight  dismayd, 
All  were  he  wearie  of  his  former  paine  ; 
That  now  there  do  but  two  of  six  remaine, 
Which  two  did  yield  before  she  did  them  smight. 
"  Ah !  "  (said  she  then)  "  now  may  ye  all  see  plaine, 
That  truth  is  strong,  and  trew  love  most  of  might, 
That  for  his  trusty  servaunts  doth  so  strongly  fight." 

xxx.  "  Too  well  we  see,"  (saide  they)  "  and  prove  too  well 
Our  faulty  weakenes,  and  your  matchlesse  might: 
Forthy,  faire  Sir,  yours  be  the  Damozell, 

344  The  Faerie  Queene 

Which  by  her  owne  law  to  your  lot  doth  light, 
And  we  your  liegemen  faith  unto  you  plight.'' 
So  underneath  her  feet  their  swords  they  mard, 
And,  after,  her  besought,  well  as  they  might, 
To  enter  in  and  reape  the  dew  reward. 
She  graunted;  and  then  in  they  all  together  far'd. 

xxxi.  Long  were  it  to  describe  the  goodly  frame, 
And  stately  port  of  Castle  Joyeous, 
(For  so  that  Castle  hight  by  commun  name) 
Where  they  were  entertaynd  with  courteous 
And  comely  glee  of  many  gratious 
Faire  Ladies,  and  of  many  a  gentle  knight, 
Who,  through  a  Chamber  long  and  spacious, 
Eftsoones  them  brought  unto  their  Ladies  sight, 
That  of  them  cleeped  was  the  Lady  of  Delight. 

xxxii.  But  for  to  tell  the  sumptuous  aray 

Of  that  great  chamber  should  be  labour  lost; 

For  living  wit,  I  weene,  cannot  display 

The  roiall  riches  and  exceeding  cost 

Of  every  pillour  and  of  every  post, 

Which  all  of  purest  bullion  framed  were, 

And  with  great  perles  and  pretious  stones  embost; 

That  the  bright  glister  of  their  beames  cleare 

Did  sparckle  forth  great  light,  and  glorious  did  appear e. 

xxxiii.  These  stranger  knights,  through  passing,  forth  were  led 
Into  an  inner  rowme,  whose  royaltee 
And  rich  purveyance  might  uneath  be  red ; 
Mote  Princes  place  be  seeme  so  deckt  to  bee. 
Which  stately  manner  whenas  they  did  see, 
The  image  of  superfluous  riotize, 
Exceeding  much  the  state  of  meane  degree, 
They  greatly  wondred  whence  so  sumptuous  guize 
Might  be  maintaynd,  and  each  gan  diversely  devize. 

xxxiv.  The  wals  were  round  about  appareiled 

With  costly  clothes  of  Arras  and  of  Toure; 
In  which  with  cunning  hand  was  pourtrahed 
The  love  of  Venus  and  her  Paramoure, 
The  fay  re  Adonis,  turned  to  a  flowre; 
A  worke  of  rare  device  and  wondrous  wit. 

Book  III — Canto  I  345 

First  did  it  shew  the  bitter  balefull  stowre, 
Which  her  essayd  with  many  a  fervent  fit, 
When  first  her  tender  hart  was  with  his  beautie  smit. 

xxxv.  Then  with  what  sleights  and  sweet  allurements  she 
Entyst  the  Boy,  as  well  that  art  she  knew, 
And  wooed  him  her  Paramoure  to  bee ; 
Now  making  girlonds  of  each  flowre  that  grew, 
To  crowne  his  golden  lockes  with  honour  dew; 
Now  leading  him  into  a  secret  shade 
From  his  Beauperes,  and  from  bright  heavens  vew, 
Where  him  to  sleepe  she  gently  would  perswade, 
Or  bathe  him  in  a  fountaine  by  some  covert  glade: 

xxxvi.  And  whilst  he  slept  she  over  him  would  spred 
Her  mantle,  colour'd  like  the  starry  skyes, 
And  her  soft  arme  lay  underneath  his  hed, 
And  with  ambrosiall  kisses  bathe  his  eyes; 
And  whilst  he  bath'd  with  her  two  crafty  spyes 
She  secretly  would  search  each  daintie  lim, 
And  throw  into  the  well  sweet  Rosemaryes, 
And  fragrant  violets,  and  Paunces  trim ; 
And  ever  with  sweet  Nectar  she  did  sprinkle  him. 

xxxvii.  So  did  she  steale  his  heedelesse  hart  away, 
And  joyd  his  love  in  secret  unespyde: 
But  for  she  saw  him  bent  to  cruell  play, 
To  hunt  the  salvage  beast  in  forrest  wyde, 
Dreadfull  of  daunger  that  mote  him  betyde, 
She  oft  and  oft  adviz'd  him  to  refraine 
From  chase  of  greater  beastes,  whose  brutish  pryde 
Mote  breede  him  scath  unwares :  but  all  in  vaine  ; 
For  who   can   shun   the   chance   that  dest'ny   doth 
ordaine  ? 

xxxviii.  Lo !  where  beyond  he  lyeth  languishing, 
Deadly  engored  of  a  great  wilde  Bore ; 
And  by  his  side  the  Goddesse  groveling 
Makes  for  him  endlesse  mone,  and  evermore 
With  her  soft  garment  wipes  away  the  gore 
Which  staynes  his  snowy  skin  with  hatefull  hew: 
But,  when  she  saw  no  helpe  might  him  restore, 
Him  to  a  dainty  flowre  she  did  transmew, 
Which  in  that  cloth  was  wrought  as  if  it  lively  grew. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  So  was  that  chamber  clad  in  goodly  wize : 
And  rownd  about  it  many  beds  were  dight, 
As  whylome  was  the  antique  worldes  guize, 
Some  for  untimely  ease,  some  for  delight, 
As  pleased  them  to  use  that  use  it  might; 
And  all  was  full  of  Damzels  and  of  Squyres, 
Dauncing  and  reveling  both  day  and  night, 
And  swimming  deepe  in  sensuall  desyres ; 
And  Cupid  still  emongest  them  kindled  lustfull  fyres. 

XL.  And  all  the  while  sweet  Musicke  did  divide 
Her  looser  notes  with  Lydian  harmony; 
And  all  the  while  sweet  birdes  thereto  applide 
Their  daintie  layes  and  dulcet  melody, 
Ay  caroling  of  love  and  jollity, 
That  wonder  was  to  heare  their  trim  consort. 
Which  when  those  knights  beheld,  with  scornefull  eye 
They  sdeigned  such  lascivious  disport, 
And  loath'd  the  loose  demeanure  of  that  wanton  sort. 

xli.  Thence  they  were  brought  to  that  great  Ladies  vew, 
Whom  they  found  sitting  on  a  sumptuous  bed 
That  glistred  all  with  gold  and  glorious  shew, 
As  the  proud  Persian  Queenes  accustomed. 
She  seemd  a  woman  of  great  bountihed, 
And  of  rare  beau  tie,  saving  that  askaunce 
Her  wanton  eyes,  ill  signes  of  womanhed, 
Did  roll  too  lightly,  and  too  often  glaunce, 
Without  regard  of  grace  or  comely  amenaunce* 

xlii.  Long  worke  it  were,  and  needlesse,  to  devize 
Their  goodly  entertainement  and  great  glee. 
She  caused  them  be  led  in  courteous  wize 
Into  a  bowre,  disarmed  for  to  be, 
And  cheared  well  with  wine  and  spiceree : 
The  Redcrosse  Knight  was  soon  disarmed  there ; 
But  the  brave  Mayd  would  not  disarmed  bee, 
But  onely  vented  up  her  umbriere, 
And  so  did  let  her  goodly  visage  to  appere.: 

xliii.  As  when  fayre  Cynthia,  in  darkesome  night, 
Is  in  a  noyous  cloud  enveloped, 
Where  she  may  flnde  the  substance  thin  and  light, 

Book  III — Canto  I  347 

Breakes  forth  her  silver  beames,  and  her  bright  hed 

Discovers  to  the  world  discomfited: 

Of  the  poore  traveiler  that  went  astray 

With  thousand  blessings  she  is  heried. 

Such  was  the  beautie  and  the  shining  ray, 

With  which  fayre  Britomart  gave  light  unto  the  day. 

xliv.  And  eke  those  six,  which  lately  with  her  fought, 
Now  were  disarmd,  and  did  them  selves  present 
Unto  her  vew,  and  company  unsought; 
For  they  all  seemed  courteous  and  gent, 
And  all  sixe  brethren,  borne  of  one  parent, 
Which  had  them  traynd  in  all  civilitee, 
And  goodly  taught  to  tilt  and  turnament: 
Now  were  they  liegmen  to  this  Ladie  free, 
And  her  knights  service  ought,  to  hold  of  her  in  fee, 

xlv.  The  first  of  them  by  name  Gardante  hight, 
A  jolly  person,  and  of  comely  vew; 
The  second  was  Parlante,  a  bold  knight; 
And  next  to  him  Jocante  did  ensew; 
Basciante  did  him  selfe  most  courteous  shew; 
But  fierce  Bacchante  seemd  too  fell  and  keene; 
And  y ett  in  armes  Noctante  greater  grew  : 
All  were  f aire  knights,  and  goodly  well  beseene ; 
But  to  faire  Britomart  they  all  but  shadowes  beene, 

xl vi.  For  shee  was  full  of  amiable  grace 

And  manly  terror  mixed  therewithall ; 

That  as  the  one  stird  up  affections  bace, 

So  th'  other  did  mens  rash  desires  apall, 

And  hold  them  backe  that  would  in  error  fall: 

As  hee  that  hath  espide  a  vermeill  Rose, 

To  which  sharp  thornes  and  breres  the  way  forstall, 

Dare  not  for  dread  his  hardy  hand  expose, 

But  wishing  it  far  off  his  ydle  wish  doth  lose, 

xl vii.  Whom  when  the  Lady  saw  so  faire  a  wight, 
All  ignorant  of  her  contrary  sex, 
(For  shee  her  weend  a  fresh  and  lusty  knight,) 
Shee  greatly  gan  enamoured  to  wex 
And  with  vaine  thoughts  her  falsed  fancy  vex: 
Her  fickle  hart  conceived  hasty  fyre, 

348  The  Faerie  Queene 

Like  sparkes  of  fire  which  fall  in  sclender  flex, 

That  shortly  brent  into  extreme  desyre, 

And  ransackt  all  her  veines  with  passion  entyre. 

xlviii.  Eftsoones  shee  grew  to  great  impatience, 
And  into  termes  of  open  outrage  brust, 
That  plaine  discovered  her  incontinence; 
Ne  reckt  shee  who  her  meaning  did  mistrust, 
For  she  was  given  all  to  fleshly  lust, 
And  poured  forth  in  sensuall  delight, 
That  all  regard  of  shame  she  had  discust, 
And  meet  respect  of  honor  putt  to  flight : 
So  shamelesse  beauty  soone  becomes  a  loathly  sight. 

xxix.  Faire  Ladies,  that  to  love  captived  aire, 

And  chaste  desires  doe  nourish  in  your  mind, 

Let  not  her  fault  your  sweete  affections  marre, 

Ne  blott  the  bounty  of  all  womankind, 

'Mongst  thousands  good  one  wanton  Dame  to  find: 

Emongst  the  Roses  grow  some  wicked  weeds : 

For  this  was  not  to  love,  but  lust,  inclind ; 

For  love  does  alwaies  bring  forth  bounteous  deeds, 

And  in  each  gentle  hart  desire  of  honor  breeds, 

L.  Nought  so  of  love  this  looser  Dame  did  skill, 
But  as  a  cole  to  kindle  fleshly  flame, 
Giving  the  bridle  to  her  wanton  will, 
And  treading  under  foote  her  honest  name: 
Such  love  is  hate,  and  such  desire  is  shame. 
Still  did  she  rove  at  her  with  crafty  glaunce 
Of  her  false  eies,  that  at  her  hart  did  ayme, 
And  told  her  meaning  in  her  countenaunce; 
But  Britomart  dissembled  it  with  ignoraunce, 

Li.  Supper  was  shortly  dight,  and  downe  they  satt; 
Where  they  were  served  with  all  sumptuous  fare, 
Whiles  fruitfull  Ceres  and  Lyaeus  fatt 
Pourd  out  their  plenty  without  spight  or  spare. 
Nought  wanted  there  that  dainty  was  and  rare, 
And  aye  the  cups  their  bancks  did  overflow; 
And  aye  betweene  the  cups  she  did  prepare 
Way  to  her  love,  and  secret  darts  did  throw; 
But  Britomart  would  not  such  guilfull  message  know. 

Book  III — Canto  I  349 

lit.  So,  when  they  slaked  had  the  fervent  heat 
Of  appetite  with  meates  of  every  sort, 
The  Lady  did  faire  Britomart  entreat 
Her  to  disarme,  and  with  delightfull  sport 
To  loose  her  warlike  limbs  and  strong  effort; 
But  when  shee  mote  not  thereunto  be  wonne, 
(For  shee  her  sexe  under  that  straunge  purport 
Did  use  to  hide,  and  plaine  apparaunce  shonne) 
In  playner  wise  to  tell  her  grievaunce  she  begonne. 

liii.  And  all  attonce  discovered  her  desire 

With  sighes,  and  sobs,  and  plaints,  and  piteous  griefe. 
The  outward  sparkes  of  her  inburning  fire; 
Which  spent  in  vaine,  at  last  she  told  her  briefe, 
That  but  if  she  did  lend  her  short  reliefe 
And  doe  her  comfort,  she  mote  algates  dye : 
But  the  chaste  damzell,  that  had  never  priefe 
Of  such  malengine  and  fine  forgerye, 
Did  easely  beleeve  her  strong  extremitye. 

liv.  Full  easy  was  for  her  to  have  beliefe, 
Who  by  self-feeling  of  her  feeble  sexe, 
And  by  long  triall  of  the  inward  griefe 
Wherewith  imperious  love  her  hart  did  vexe, 
Could  judge  what  paines  doe  loving  harts  perplexe. 
Who  meanes  no  guile  be  guiled  soonest  shall, 
And  to  faire  semblaunce  doth  light  faith  annexe: 
The  bird  that  knowes  not  the  false  fowlers  call, 
Into  his  hidden  nett  full  easely  doth  fall. 

lv.  Forthy  she  would  not  in  discourteise  wise 
Scorne  the  faire  offer  of  good  will  prof  est; 
For  great  rebuke  it  is  love  to  despise, 
Or  rudely  sdeigne  a  gentle  harts  request; 
But  with  faire  countenaunce,  as  beseemed  best, 
Her  entertaynd:   nath'lesse  shee  inly  deemd 
Her  love  too  light,  to  wooe  a  wandring  guest; 
Which  she  misconstruing,  thereby  esteemd 
That  from  like  inward  fire  that  outward  smoke  had  steemd. 

lvi.  Therewith  a  while  she  her  flit  fancy  fedd, 
Till  she  mote  winne  fit  time  for  her  desire; 
But  yet  her  wound  still  inward  freshly  bledd, 

250  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  through  her  bones  the  false  instilled  fire 

Did  spred  it  selfe,  and  venime  close  inspire, 

Tho  were  the  tables  taken  all  away; 

And  every  knight,  and  every  gentle  Squire, 

Gan  choose  his  Dame  with  Bascimano  gay, 

With  whom  he  ment  to  make  his  sport  and  courtly  play. 

lvii.  Some  fell  to  daunce,  some  fel  to  hazardry, 

Some  to  make  love,  some  to  make  meryment, 
As  diverse  witts  to  diverse  things  apply; 
And  all  the  while  faire  Malecasta  bent 
Her  crafty  engins  to  her  close  intent. 
By  this  th'  eternall  lampes,  wherewith  high  Jove 
Doth  light  the  lower  world,  were  halfe  yspent, 
And  the  moist  daughters  of  huge  Atlas  strove 
Into  the  Ocean  deepe  to  drive  their  weary  drove, 

lviii.  High  time  it  seemed  then  for  everie  wight 
Them  to  betake  unto  their  kindly  rest : 
Eftesoones  long  waxen  torches  weren  light 
Unto  their  bowres  to  guyden  every  guest. 
Tho,  when  the  Britonesse  saw  all  the  rest 
Avoided  quite,  she  gan  her  selfe  despoile, 
And  safe  committ  to  her  soft  fethered  nest, 
Wher  through  long  watch,  and  late  daies  weary  toile, 
She  soundly  slept,  and  carefull  thoughts  did  quite  assoile. 

Lix.  Now  whenas  all  the  world  in  silence  deepe 
Yshrowded  was,  and  every  mortall  wight 
Was  drowned  in  the  depth  of  deadly  sleepe; 
Faire  Malecasta,  whose  engrieved  spright 
Could  find  no  rest  in  such  perplexed  plight, 
Lightly  arose  out  of  her  wearie  bed, 
And,  under  the  blacke  vele  of  guilty  Night, 
Her  with  a  scarlott  mantle  covered 
That  was  with  gold  and  Ermines  faire  enveloped* 

LX.  Then  panting  softe,  and  trembling  every  joynt, 
Her  fearfull  feete  towards  the  bowre  she  mov'd, 
Where  she  for  secret  purpose  did  appoynt 
To  lodge  the  warlike  maide,  unwisely  loov'd; 
And,  to  her  bed  approching,  first  she  proov'd 
Whether  she  slept  or  wakte :  with  her  softe  hand 

Book  III — Canto  I  351 

She  softely  felt  if  any  member  moov'd, 

And  lent  her  wary  eare  to  understand 

If  any  puffe  of  breath  or  signe  of  sence  shee  fond. 

lxi.  Which  whenas  none  she  fond,  with  easy  shifte, 
For  feare  least  her  unwares  she  should  abrayd, 
Th'  embroder'd  quilt  she  lightly  up  did  lifte, 
And  by  her  side  her  selfe  she  softly  layd, 
Of  every  finest  fingers  touch  affrayd ; 
Ne  any  noise  she  made,  ne  word  she  spake, 
But  inly  sigh'd.     At  last  the  royall  Mayd 
Out  of  her  quiet  slomber  did  awake, 
And  chaunged  her  weary  side  the  better  ease  to  take, 

lxii.  Where  feeling  one  close  couched  by  her  side, 
She  lightly  lept  out  of  her  filed  bedd, 
And  to  her  weapon  ran,  in  minde  to  gride 
The  loathed  leachour.     But  the  Dame,  halfe  dedd 
Through  suddein  feare  and  ghastly  drerihedd, 
Did  shrieke  alowd,  that  through  the  hous  it  rong, 
And  the  whole  family,  therewith  adredd, 
Rashly  out  of  their  rouzed  couches  sprong, 
And  to  the  troubled  chamber  all  in  armes  did  throng. 

lxiii.  And  those  sixe  knights,  that  ladies  Champions 

And  eke  the  Redcrosse  knight  ran  to  the  stownd. 

Half  armd  and  halfe  unarmd,  with  them  attons: 

Where  when  confusedly  they  came,  they  fownd 

Their  lady  lying  on  the  sencelesse  grownd: 

On  thother  side  they  saw  the  warlike  Mayd 

Al  in  her  snow-white  smocke,  with  locks  unbownd, 

Threatning  the  point  of  her  avenging  blaed ; 

That  with  so  troublous  terror  they  were  all  dismayd. 

lxiv.  About  their  Ladye  first  they  flockt  arownd ; 
Whom  having  laid  in  comfortable  couch, 
Shortly  they  reard  out  of  her  frosen  swownd ; 
And  afterwardes  they  gan  with  fowle  reproch 
To  stirre  up  strife,  and  troublous  contecke  broch: 
But  by  ensample  of  the  last  dayes  losse, 
None  of  them  rashly  durst  to  her  approch, 
Ne  in  so  glorious  spoile  themselves  embosser 
Her  succourd  eke  the  Champion  of  the  bloody  Crosse. 

352  The  Faerie  Queene 

lxv.  But  one  of  those  sixe  knights,  Gardante  hight, 
Drew  out  a  deadly  bow  and  arrow  keene, 
Which  forth  he  sent,  with  felonous  despight 
And  fell  intent,  against  the  virgin  sheene: 
The  mortall  Steele  stayd  not  till  it  was  seene 
To  gore  her  side ;  yet  was  the  wound  not  deepe, 
But  lightly  rased  her  soft  silken  skin, 
That  drops  of  purple  blood  thereout  did  weepe, 
Which  did  her  lilly  smock  with  staines  of  vermeil  steep. 

lxvi.  Wherewith  enrag'd  she  fiercely  at  them  flew, 
And  with  her  flaming  sword  about  her  layd, 
That  none  of  them  foule  mischiefe  could  eschew, 
But  with  her  dreadfull  strokes  were  all  dismayd : 
Here,  there,  and  every  where,  about  her  swayd 
Her  wrathf ull  Steele,  that  none  mote  it  abyde ; 
And  eke  the  Redcrosse  knight  gave  her  good  ayd, 
Ay  joyning  foot  to  foot,  and  syde  to  syde; 
That  in  short  space  their  foes  they  have  quite  terrifyde* 

lxvii.  Tho,  whenas  all  were  put  to  shamefull  flight, 
The  noble  Britomartis  her  arayd, 
And  her  bright  armes  about  her  body  dight. 
For  nothing  would  she  lenger  there  be  stayd, 
Where  so  loose  life,  and  so  ungentle  trade, 
Was  usd  of  knightes  and  Ladies  seeming  gent: 
So  earely,  ere  the  grosse  Earthes  gryesy  shade 
Was  all  disperst  out  of  the  firmament, 
They  tooke  their  steeds,  and  forth  upon  their  journey 

Book  III — Canto  II  3  $3 


The  Redcrosse  knight  to  Britomart 
Describeth  Artegall: 
The  wondrous  myrrhour,  by  which  she 
In  love  with  him  did  fall. 

I.  Here  have  I  cause  in  men  just  blame  to  find, 
That  in  their  proper  praise  too  partiall  bee, 
And  not  indifferent  to  woman  kind, 
To  whom  no  share  in  armes  and  chevalree 
They  doe  impart,  ne  maken  memoree 
Of  their  brave  gestes  and  prowesse  martiall: 
Scarse  do  they  spare  to  one,  or  two,  or  three, 
Rowme  in  their  writtes ;  yet  the  same  writing  small 
Does  all  their  deedes  deface,  and  dims  their  glories  all. 

n.  But  by  record  of  antique  times  I  finde 

That  wemen  wont  in  warres  to  beare  most  sway, 

And  to  all  great  exploites  them  selves  inclind, 

Of  wihch  they  still  the  girlond  bore  away; 

Till  envious  Men,  fearing  their  rules  decay, 

Gan  coyne  streight  lawes  to  curb  their  liberty: 

Yet  sith  they  warlike  armes  have  laide  away, 

They  have  exceld  in  artes  and  pollicy, 

That  now  we  foolish  men  that  prayse  gin  eke  t'  envy. 

in.  Of  warlike  puissaunce  in  ages  spent, 

Be  thou,  faire  Britomart,  whose  prayse  I  wryte; 

But  of  all  wisedom  bee  thou  precedent, 

O  soveraine  Queene !  whose  prayse  I  would  endyte, 

Endite  I  would  as  dewtie  doth  excyte ; 

But  ah !  my  rymes  too  rude  and  rugged  arre, 

When  in  so  high  an  object  they  do  lyte, 

And,  striving  fit  to  make,  I  feare,  doe  marre : 

Thy  selfe  thy  prayses  tell,  and  make  them  knowen  farre. 

iv.  She,  traveiling  with  Guyon,  by  the  way 
Of  sondry  thinges  faire  purpose  gan  to  find, 
T'  abridg  their  journey  long,  and  lingring  day; 

354  The  Faerie  Queene 

Mongst  which  it  fell  into  that  Fairies  mind 

To  aske  this  Briton  Maid,  what  uncouth  wind 

Brought  her  into  those  partes,  and  what  inquest 

Made  her  dissemble  her  disguised  kind  ? 

Faire  Lady  she  him  seemd,  like  Lady  drest. 

But  fairest  knight  alive,  when  armed  was  her  brest. 

V,  Thereat  she  sighing  softly  had  no  powre 
To  speake  a  while,  ne  ready  answere  make ; 
But  with  hart-thrilling  throbs  and  bitter  stowre, 
As  if  she  had  a  fever  fitt,  did  quake, 
And  every  daintie  limbe  with  horrour  shake; 
And  ever  and  anone  the  rosy  red 
Flasht  through  her  face,  as  it  had  beene  a  flake 
Of  lightning  through  bright  heven  fulmined : 
At  last,  the  passion  past,  she  thus  him  answered* 

vi.  "  Faire  Sir,  I  let  you  weete,  that  from  the  howre 
I  taken  was  from  nourses  tender  pap, 
I  have  been  trained  up  in  warlike  stowre, 
To  tossen  speare  and  shield,  and  to  affrap 
The  warlike  ryder  to  his  most  mishap : 
Sithence  I  loathed  have  my  life  to  lead, 
As  Ladies  wont,  in  pleasures  wanton  lap, 
To  finger  the  fine  needle  and  nyce  thread, 
Me  lever  were  with  point  of  foemans  speare  be  dead* 

vii.  "  All  my  delight  on  deedes  of  armes  is  sett, 
To  hunt  out  perilles  and  adventures  hard, 
By  sea,  by  land,  where  so  they  may  be  mett, 
Onely  for  honour  and  for  high  regard, 
Without  respect  of  richesse  or  reward : 
For  such  intent  into  these  partes  I  came, 
Withouten  compasse  or  withouten  card, 
Far  fro  my  native  soyle,  that  is  by  name 
The  greater  Brytayne,  here  to  seek  for  praise  and  fame. 

vin.  "  Fame  blazed  hath,  that  here  in  Faery  lond 
Doe  many  famous  knightes  and  Ladies  wonne, 
And  many  straunge  adventures  to  bee  fond, 
Of  which  great  worth  and  worship  may  be  wonne ; 
Which  to  prove,  I  this  voyage  have  begonne. 
But  mote  I  weet  of  you,  right  courteous  knight, 

Book  III — Canto  II  355 

Tydings  of  one  that  hath  unto  me  donne 

Late  foule  dishonour  and  reprochfull  spight, 

The  which  I  seeke  to  wreake,  and  Arthegall  he  hight." 

ix.  The  worde  gone  out  she  backe  againe  would  call, 
As  her  repenting  so  to  have  missayd, 
But  that  he,  it  uptaking  ere  the  fall, 
Her  shortly  answered:   "  Faire  martiall  Mayd, 
Certes  ye  misavised  beene  t'  upbrayd 
A  gentle  knight  with  so  unknightly  blame; 
For,  weet  ye  well,  of  all  that  ever  playd 
At  tilt  or  tourney,  or  like  warlike  game, 
The  noble  Arthegall  hath  ever  borne  the  name* 

X.  "  Forthy  great  wonder  were  it,  if  such  shame 
Should  ever  enter  in  his  bounteous  thought, 
Or  ever  doe  that  mote  deserven  blame : 
The  noble  corage  never  weeneth  ought 
That  may  unworthy  of  it  selfe  be  thought. 
Therefore,  faire  Damzell,  be  ye  well  aware, 
Least  that  too  farre  ye  have  your  sorrow  sought: 
You  and  your  countrey  both  I  wish  welfare, 
And  honour  both;  for  each  of  other  worthy  are." 

xi.  The  royall  Maid  woxe  inly  wondrous  glad, 
To  heare  her  Love  so  highly  magnifyde; 
And  joyd  that  ever  she  affixed  had 
Her  hart  on  knight  so  goodly  glorifyde, 
How  ever  finely  she  it  faind  to  hyde. 
The  loving  mother,  that  nine  monethes  did  beare 
In  the  deare  closett  of  her  painefull  syde 
Her  tender  babe,  it  seeing  safe  appeare, 
Doth  not  so  much  rejoyce  as  she  rejoyced  theare.  ] 

xii.  But  to  occasion  him  to  further  talke, 

To  feed  her  humor  with  his  pleasing  style, 
Her  list  in  stryfull  termes  with  him  to  balke, 
And  thus  reply de:  "  How  ever,  Sir,  ye  fyle 
Your  courteous  tongue  his  prayses  to  compyle, 
It  ill  beseemes  a  knight  of  gentle  sort, 
Such  as  ye  have  him  boasted,  to  beguyle 
A  simple  maide,  and  worke  so  hainous  tort, 
In  shame  of  knighthood,  as  I  largely  can  report. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  "  Let  bee  therefore  my  vengeaunce  to  disswade, 
And  read  where  I  that  fay  tour  false  may  find." 
"  Ah !  but  if  reason  faire  might  you  perswade 
To  slake  your  wrath,  and  mollify  your  mind  " 
(Said  he)  "  perhaps  ye  should  it  better  find: 
For  hardie  thing  it  is,  to  weene  by  might 
That  man  to  hard  conditions  to  bind, 
Or  ever  hope  to  match  in  equall  fight, 
Whose  prowesse  paragone  saw  never  living  wight. 

xiv.  "  Ne  soothlich  is  it  easie  for  to  read 

Where  now  on  earth,  or  how,  he  may  be  f ownd ; 
For  he  ne  wonneth  in  one  certeine  stead, 
But  restlesse  walketh  all  the  world  arownd, 
Ay  doing  thinges  that  to  his  fame  redownd, 
Defending  Ladies  cause  and  Orphans  right, 
Whereso  he  heares  that  any  doth  confownd 
Them  comf ortlesse  through  tyranny  or  might : 
So  is  his  soveraine  honour  raisde  to  hevens  hight." 

xv.  His  feeling  wordes  her  feeble  sence  much  pleased, 
And  softly  sunck  into  her  molten  hart  : 
Hart  that  is  inly  hurt  is  greatly  eased 
With  hope  of  thing  that  may  allegge  his  smart; 
For  pleasing  wordes  are  like  to  Magick  art, 
That  doth  the  charmed  Snake  in  slomber  lay. 
Such  secrete  ease  felt  gentle  Britomart, 
Yet  list  the  same  eflorce  with  faind  gainesay ; 
So  dischord  of te  in  Musick  makes  the  sweeter  lay : — 

xvi.  And  sayd;  "  Sir  knight,  these  ydle  termes  forbeare; 
And,  sith  it  is  uneath  to  finde  his  haunt, 
Tell  me  some  markes  by  which  he  may  appeare, 
If  chaunce  I  him  encounter  para  vaunt ; 
For  perdy  one  shall  other  slay,  or  daunt : 
What  shape,  what  shield,  what  armes,  what  steed, 

what  stedd, 
And  what  so  else  his  person  most  may  vaunt  ?  " 
All  which  the  Redcrosse  knight  to  point  aredd, 
And  him  in  everie  part  before  her  fashioned. 

xvii.  Yet  him  in  everie  part  before  she  knew, 

However  list  her  now  her  knowledge  fayne, 

Book  III — Canto  II  357 

Sith  him  whylome  in  Britayne  she  did  vew, 

To  her  revealed  in  a  mirrhour  playne ; 

Whereof  did  grow  her  first  engrafted  payne, 

Whose  root  and  stalke  so  bitter  yet  did  taste, 

That  but  the  fruit  more  sweetnes  did  contayne, 

Her  wretched  dayes  in  dolour  she  mote  waste, 

And  yield  the  pray  of  love  to  lothsome  death  at  last. 

xviii.  By  straunge  occasion  she  did  him  behold, 

And  much  more  straungely  gan  to  love  his  sight, 
As  it  in  bookes  hath  written  beene  of  old. 
In  Deheubarth,  that  now  South-wales  is  hight, 
What  time  king  Ryence  raign'd  and  dealed  right, 
The  great  Magitien  Merlin  had  deviz'd, 
By  his  deepe  science  and  hell-dreaded  might, 
A  looking  glasse,  right  wondrously  aguiz'd, 
Whose   vertues  through   the  wyde  worlde  soone   were 

xix.  It  vertue  had  to  shew  in  perfect  sight 

Whatever  thing  was  in  the  world  contaynd, 

Betwixt  the  lowest  earth  and  hevens  hight, 

So  that  it  to  the  looker  appertaynd : 

Whatever  foe  had  wrought,  or  frend  had  faynd, 

Therein  discovered  was,  ne  ought  mote  pas, 

Ne  ought  in  secret  from  the  same  remaynd ; 

Forthy  it  round  and  hollow  shaped  was, 

Like  to  the  world  itselfe,  and  seemd  a  world  of  glas. 

xx.  Who  wonders  not,  that  reades  so  wonderous  worke  ? 
But  who  does  wonder,  that  has  red  the  Towre 
Wherein  th'  Aegyptian  Phao  long  did  lurke 
From  all  mens  vew,  that  none  might  her  discoure, 
Yet  she  might  all  men  vew  out  of  her  bowre  ? 
Great  Ptolomaee  it  for  his  lemans  sake 
Ybuilded  all  of  glasse,  by  Magicke  powre, 
And  also  it  impregnable  did  make ; 
Yet  when  his  love  was  false  he  with  a  peaze  it  brake. 

xxi.  Such  was  the  glassy  globe  that  Merlin  made, 
And  gave  unto  king  Ryence  for  his  gard, 
That  never  foes  his  kingdome  might  invade, 
But  he  it  knew  at  home  before  he  hard 

358  The  Faerie  Queene 

Tydings  thereof,  and  so  them  still  debar'd. 

It  was  a  famous  Present  for  a  Prince, 

And  worthy  worke  of  infinite  reward, 

That  treasons  could  bewray,  and  foes  convince: 

Happy  this  Realme,  had  it  remayned  ever  since  I 

xxii.  One  day  it  fortuned  fayre  Britomart 
Into  her  fathers  closet  to  repayre ; 
For  nothing  he  from  her  reserv'd  apart, 
Being  his  onely  daughter  and  his  hayre ; 
Where  when  she  had  espyde  that  mirrhour  fayre, 
Her  self e  awhile  therein  she  vewd  in  vaine : 
Tho,  her  avizing  of  the  vertues  rare 
Which  thereof  spoken  were,  she  gan  againe 
Her  to  bethinke  of  that  mote  to  her  selfe  pertaine. 

xxiii.  But  as  it  falleth,  in  the  gentlest  harts 

Imperious  Love  hath  highest  set  his  throne, 

And  tyrannizeth  in  the  bitter  smarts 

Of  them  that  to  him  buxome  are  and  prone : 

So  thought  this  Mayd  (as  maydens  use  to  done) 

Whom  fortune  for  her  husband  would  allot: 

Not  that  she  lusted  after  any  one, 

For  she  was  pure  from  blame  of  sinfull  blott; 

Yet  wist  her  life  at  last  must  lincke  in  that  same  knot. 

xxiv.  Eftsoones  there  was  presented  to  her  eye 

A  comely  knight,  all  arm'd  in  complete  wize, 
Through  whose  bright  ventayle,  lifted  up  on  hye, 
His  manly  face,  that  did  his  foes  agrize, 
And  frends  to  termes  of  gentle  truce  entize, 
Lookt  foorth,  as  Phoebus  face  out  of  the  east 
Betwixt  two  shady  mountaynes  doth  arize: 
Portly  his  person  was,  and  much  increast 
Through  his  Heroicke  grace  and  honourable  gest. 

xxv.  His  crest  was  covered  with  a  couchant  Hownd, 
And  all  his  armour  seemd  of  antique  mould, 
But  wondrous  massy  and  assured  sownd, 
And  round  about  yfretted  all  with  gold, 
In  which  there  written  was,  with  cyphres  old, 
Achilles  armes,  which  Arthegall  did  win  : 
And  on  his  shield  enveloped  sevenfold 

Book  III — Canto  II  359 

He  bore  a  crowned  little  Ermelin, 

That  deckt  the  azure  field  with  her  fayre  pouldred  skin, 

xxvi.  The  Damzell  well  did  vew  his  Personage 
And  liked  well,  ne  further  fastned  not, 
But  went  her  way;  ne  her  unguilty  age 
Did  weene,  unwares,  that  her  unlucky  lot 
Lay  hidden  in  the  bottome  of  the  pot. 
Of  hurt  unwist  most  daunger  doth  redound; 
But  the  false  Archer,  which  that  arrow  shot 
So  slyly  that  she  did  not  feele  the  wound, 
Did  smyle  full  smoothly  at  her  weetlesse  wofull  stound. 

xxvii.  Thenceforth  the  f ether  in  her  lofty  crest, 
Ruffed  of  love,  gan  lowly  to  availe ; 
And  her  prowd  portaunce  and  her  princely  gest, 
With  which  she  earst  tryumphed,  now  did  quaile: 
Sad,  solemn,  sowre,  and  full  of  fancies  fraile, 
She  woxe ;  yet  wist  she  nether  how,  nor  why. 
She  wist  not,  silly  Mayd,  what  she  did  aile, 
Yet  wist  she  was  not  well  at  ease  perdy ; 
Yet  thought  it  was  not  love,  but  some  melancholy. 

xxviii.  So  soone  as  Night  had  with  her  pallid  hew 
Defaste  the  beautie  of  the  shyning  skye, 
And  refte  from  men  the  worldes  desired  vew, 
She  with  her  Nourse  adowne  to  sleepe  did  lye ; 
But  sleepe  full  far  away  from  her  did  fly : 
In  stead  thereof  sad  sighes  and  sorrowes  deepe 
Kept  watch  and  ward  about  her  warily, 
That  nought  she  did  but  wayle,  and  often  steepe 
Her  dainty  couch  with  teares  which  closely  she  did 

xxix.  And  if  that  any  drop  of  slombring  rest 

Did  chaunce  to  still  into  her  weary  spright. 

When  feeble  nature  felt  her  selfe  opprest, 

Streight-way  with  dreames,  and  with  fantastick  sight 

Of  dreadfull  things,  the  same  was  put  to  flight; 

That  oft  out  of  her  bed  she  did  astart, 

As  one  with  vew  of  ghastly  feends  affright: 

Tho  gan  she  to  renew  her  former  smart, 

And  thinke  of  that  fayre  visage  written  in  her  hart. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxx.  One  night,  when  she  was  tost  with  such  unrest, 
Her  aged  Nourse,  whose  name  was  Glauce  hight, 
Feeling  her  leape  out  of  her  loathed  nest, 
Betwixt  her  feeble  armes  her  quickly  keight, 
And  downe  againe  her  in  her  warme  bed  dight: 
"  Ah !  my  deare  daughter,  ah !  my  dearest  dread, 
What  uncouth  fit,"  (sayd  she)  "  what  evill  plight 
Hath  thee  opprest,  and  with  sad  drearyhead 
Chaunged  thy  lively  cheare,  and  living  made  thee  dead  ? 

xxxi.  "  For  not  of  nought  these  suddein  ghastly  feares 
All  night  afflict  thy  naturall  repose ; 
And  all  the  day,  when  as  thine  equall  peares 
Their  fit  disports  with  faire  delight  doe  chose, 
Thou  in  dull  corners  doest  thy  selfe  inclose; 
Ne  tastest  Princes  pleasures,  ne  doest  spred 
Abroad  thy  fresh  youths  fayrest  flowre,  but  lose 
Both  leafe  and  fruite,  both  too  untimely  shed, 
As  one  in  wilfull  bale  for  ever  buried. 

xxxn.  "  The  time  that  mortall  men  their  weary  cares 
Do  lay  away,  and  all  wilde  beastes  do  rest, 
And  every  river  eke  his  course  forbeares, 
Then  doth  this  wicked  evill  thee  infest, 
And  rive  with  thousand  throbs  thy  thrilled  brest: 
Like  an  huge  Aetn'  of  deepe  engulfed  gryefe, 
Sorrow  is  heaped  in  thy  hollow  chest, 
Whence  foorth  it  breakes  in  sighes  and  anguish  ryfe, 
As  smoke  and  sulphure  mingled  with  confused  stryfe. 

xxxiii.  "  Ay  me !  how  much  I  feare  least  love  it  bee  1 
But  if  that  love  it  be,  as  sure  I  read 
By  knowen  signes  and  passions  which  I  see, 
Be  k  worthy  of  thy  race  and  royall  sead, 
Then  I  avow,  by  this  most  sacred  head 
Of  my  deare  foster  childe,  to  ease  thy  griefe 
And  win  thy  will:  Therefore  away  doe  dread; 
For  death  nor  daunger  from  thy  dew  reliefe 
Shall  me  debarre:   tell  me  therefore,  my  liefest  liefe !  " 

xxxiv.  So  having  sayd,  her  twixt  her  armes  twaine 
Shee  streightly  straynd,  and  colled  tenderly; 
And  every  trembling  joynt  and  every  vaine 

Book  III— Canto  II  361 

Shee  softly  felt,  and  rubbed  busily, 

To  doe  the  frosen  cold  away  to  fly; 

And  her  faire  deawy  eies  with  kisses  deare 

Shee  ofte  did  bathe,  and  ofte  againe  did  dry; 

And  ever  her  importund  not  to  feare 

To  let  the  secret  of  her  hart  to  her  appeare. 

xxxv.  The  Damzell  pauzd;  and  then  thus  fearfully: 

"  All !  Nurse,  what  needeth  thee  to  eke  my  payne? 
Is  not  enough  that  I  alone  doe  dye, 
But  it  must  doubled  bee  v/ith  death  of  twaine? 
For  nought  for  me  but  death  there  doth  remaine." 
"  0  daughter  deare !  "  (said  she)  "  despeire  no  whit; 
For  never  sore  but  might  a  salve  obtaine: 
That  blinded  God,  which  hath  ye  blindly  smit, 
Another  arrow  hath  your  lovers  hart  to  hit." 

xxxvi.  "  But  mine  is  not  "  (quoth  she)  "  like  other  wowndj 
For  which  no  reason  can  finde  remedy." 
"  Was  never  such,  but  mote  the  like  be  fownd," 
(Said  she)  "  and  though  no  reason  may  apply 
Salve  to  your  sore,  yet  love  can  higher  stye 
Then  reasons  reach,  and  oft  hath  wonders  donne." 
"  But  neither  God  of  love  nor  God  of  skye 
Can  doe  "  (said  she)  "  that  which  cannot  be  donne." 
"  Things  ofte  impossible  "  (quoth  she)  "  seeme,  ere 

xxxvii.  "  These  idle  wordes  "  (said  she)  "  doe  nought  aswage 
My  stubborne  smart,  but  more  annoiaunce  breed: 
For  no,  no  usuall  fire,  no  usuall  rage 
Yt  is,  0  Nourse !  which  on  my  life  doth  feed, 
And  sucks  the  blood  which  from  my  hart  doth  bleed : 
But  since  thy  faithful  zele  lets  me  not  hyde 
My  crime,  (if  crime  it  be)  I  will  it  reed. 
Nor  Prince  nor  pere  it  is,  whose  love  hath  gryde 
My  feeble  brest  of  late,  and  launched  this  wound  wyde. 

xxx viii.  "  Nor  man  it  is,  nor  other  living  wight, 

For  then  some  hope  I  might  unto  me  draw ; 
But  th'  only  shade  and  semblant  of  a  knight, 
Whose  shape  or  person  yet  I  never  saw, 
Hath  me  subjected  to  loves  cruell  law: 

362  The  Faerie  Queene 

The  same  one  day,  as  me  misfortune  led, 
I  in  my  fathers  wondrous  mirrhour  saw, 
And,  pleased  with  that  seeming  goodly-hed, 
Unwares  the  hidden  hooke  with  baite  I  swallowed. 

xxxix.  "  Sithens  it  hath  infixed  faster  hold 

Within  my  bleeding  bowells,  and  so  sore 

Now  ranckleth  in  this  same  fraile  fleshly  mould, 

That  all  my  entrailes  flow  with  poisnous  gore, 

And  th'  ulcer  groweth  daily  more  and  more ; 

Ne  can  my  ronning  sore  finde  remedee, 

Other  than  my  hard  fortune  to  deplore, 

And  languish,  as  the  leafe  fain  from  the  tree, 

Till  death  make  one  end  of  my  daies  and  miseree !  " 

XL.  "  Daughter/'  (said  she)  "  what  need  ye  be  dismayd? 
Or  why  make  ye  such  Monster  of  your  minde  ? 
Of  much  more  uncouth  thing  I  was  affrayd, 
Of  filthy  lust,  contrary  unto  kinde  j 
But  this  affection  nothing  straunge  I  finde ; 
For  who  with  reason  can  you  aye  reprove 
To  love  the  semblaunt  pleasing  most  your  minde. 
And  yield  your  heart  whence  ye  cannot  remove  ? 
No  guilt  in  you,  but  in  the  tyranny  of  love. 

xli.  "  Not  so  th'  Arabian  Myrrhe  did  set  her  mynd. 
Nor  so  did  Biblis  spend  her  pining  hart; 
But  lov'd  their  native  flesh  against  al  kynd, 
And  to  their  purpose  used  wicked  art: 
Yet  playd  Pasiphae  a  more  monstrous  part, 
That  lov'd  a  Bui,  and  learnd  a  beast  to  bee. 
Such  shamefull  lustes  who  loaths  not,  which  depart 
From  course  of  nature  and  of  modestee  ? 
Sweete  love  such  lewdnes  bands  from  his  faire  com- 

xlii.  "  But  thine,  my  Deare,  (welfare  thy  heart,  my  deare !) 
Though  straunge  beginning  had,  yet  fixed  is 
On  one  that  worthy  may  perhaps  appeare ; 
And  certes  seemes  bestowed  not  amis  : 
Joy  thereof  have  thou  and  eternall  blis !  " 
With  that,  upleaning  on  her  elbow  weake, 
Her  alablaster  brest  she  soft  did  kis, 

Book  III — Canto  II  363 

Which  all  that  while  shee  felt  to  pant  and  quake, 
As  it  an  Earth-quake  were :  at  last  she  thus  bespake. 

xliii.  "  Beldame,  your  words  doe  worke  me  litle  ease; 
For  though  my  love  be  not  so  lewdly  bent 
As  those  ye  blame,  yet  may  it  nought  appease 
My  raging  smart,  ne  ought  my  flame  relent, 
But  rather  doth  my  helpless  grief e  augment; 
For  they,  how  ever  shamefull  and  unkinde, 
Yet  did  possesse  their  horrible  intent; 
Short  end  of  sorrowes  they  therby  did  flnde ; 
So  was  their  fortune  good,  though  wicked  were  their 

xliv.  "  But  wicked  fortune  mine,  though  minde  be  good, 
Can  have  no  ende  nor  hope  of  my  desire, 
But  feed  on  shadowes  whiles  I  die  for  food, 
And  like  a  shadowe  wexe,  whiles  with  entire 
Affection  I  doe  languish  and  expire. 
I,  fonder  then  Cephisus  foolish  chyld, 
Who,  having  vewed  in  a  fountaine  shere 
His  face,  was  with  the  love  thereof  beguyld ; 
I,  fonder,  love  a  shade,  the  body  far  exyld." 

xlv.  "  Nought  like,"  (quoth  shee)  "  for  that  same  wretched  boy 
Was  of  him  selfe  the  ydle  Paramoure, 
Both  love  and  lover,  without  hope  of  joy, 
For  which  he  faded  to  a  watry  flowre: 
But  better  fortune  thine,  and  better  howre, 
W7hich  lov'st  the  shadow  of  a  warlike  knight; 
No  shadow  but  a  body  hath  in  powre: 
That  body,  wheresoever  that  it  light, 
May  learned  be  by  cyphers,  or  by  Magicke  might. 

XL vi.  "  But  if  thou  may  with  reason  yet  represse 
The  growing  evill,  ere  it  strength  have  gott, 
And  thee  abandond  wholy  do  possesse, 
Against  it  strongly  strive,  and  yield  thee  nott 
Til  thou  in  open  fielde  adowne  be  smott: 
But  if  the  passion  mayster  thy  fraile  might, 
So  that  needs  love  or  death  must  bee  thy  lott, 
Then,  I  avow  to  thee,  by  wrong  or  right 
To  compas  thy  desire,  and  find  that  loved  knight." 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xlvii.  Her  chearefull  words  much  cheard  the  feeble  spright 
Of  the  sicke  virgin,  that  her  downe  she  layd 
In  her  warme  bed  to  sleepe,  if  that  she  might; 
And  the  old-woman  carefully  displayd 
The  clothes  about  her  round  with  busy  ayd; 
So  that  at  last  a  litle  creeping  sleepe 
Surprisd  her  sence:   Shee,  therewith  well  apayd, 
The  dronken  lamp  down  in  the  oyl  did  steepe, 
And  sett  her  by  to  watch,  and  sett  her  by  to  weepe* 

xl viii.  Earely,  the  morrow  next,  before  that  day 
His  joyous  face  did  to  the  world  revele, 
They  both  uprose  and  tooke  their  ready  way 
Unto  the  Church,  their  praiers  to  appele 
With  great  devotion,  and  with  little  zele : 
For  the  faire  Damzel  from  the  holy  herse 
Her  love-sicke  hart  to  other  thoughts  did  steale; 
And  that  old  Dame  said  many  an  idle  verse, 
Out  of  her  daughters  hart  fond  fancies  to  reversei 

xlix.  Retournd  home,  the  royall  Infant  fell 
Into  her  former  fitt;  for- why  no  powre 
Nor  guidaunce  of  herself e  in  her  did  dwell: 
But  th'  aged  Nourse,  her  calling  to  her  bowre, 
Had  gathered  Rew,  and  Savine,  and  the  flowre 
Of  Camphora,  and  Calamint,  and  Dill; 
All  which  she  in  a  earthen  Pot  did  poure, 
And  to  the  brim  with  Coltwood  did  it  fill, 
And  many  drops  of  milk  and  blood  through  it  did  spill. 

L.  Then,  taking  thrise  three  heares  from  off  her  head, 
Them  trebly  breaded  in  a  threefold  lace, 
And  round  about  the  Pots  mouth  bound  the  thread; 
And,  after  having  whispered  a  space 
Certein  sad  words  with  hollow  voice  and  bace, 
Shee  to  the  virgin  sayd,  thrise  sayd  she  itt; 
"  Come  daughter,  come;  come,  spit  upon  my  face; 
Spitt  thrise  upon  me,  thrise  upon  me  spitt; 
Th*  uneven  nomber  for  this  busines  is  most  fitt." 

Li.  That  sayd,  her  rownd  about  she  from  her  turnd, 
She  turnd  her  contrary  to  the  Sunne; 
Thrise  she  her  turnd  contrary,  and  returnd 

Book  III— Canto  II  365 

All  contrary;  for  she  the  right  did  shunne; 

And  ever  what  she  did  was  streight  undonne. 

So  thought  she  to  undoe  her  daughters  love; 

But  love,  that  is  in  gentle  brest  begonne, 

No  ydle  charmes  so  lightly  may  remove: 

That  well  can  witnesse  who  by  tryall  it  does  prove, 

lii.  Ne  ought  it  mote  the  noble  Mayd  avayle, 
Ne  slake  the  fury  of  her  cruell  flame, 
But  that  shee  still  did  waste,  and  still  did  wayle, 
That,  through  long  languour  and  hart-burning  brame, 
She  shortly  like  a  pyned  ghost  became 
Which  long  hath  waited  by  the  Stygian  strond. 
That  when  old  Glauce  saw,  for  feare  least  blame 
Of  her  miscarriage  should  in  her  be  fond, 
She  wist  not  how  t'amend,  nor  how  it  to  withstond. 


The  Faerie  Queene 


Herein  bewrayes  to  Britomart 
The  state  of  Arthegall; 
And  shews  the  famous  Progeny, 
Which  from  them  springen  shall. 

I.  Most  sacred  fyre,  that  burnest  mightily 
In  living  brests,  ykindled  first  above 
Emongst  th'  eternall  spheres  and  lamping  sky, 
And  thence  pourd  into  men,  which  men  call  Love ! 
Not  that  same,  which  doth  base  affections  move 
In  brutish  mindes,  and  filthy  lust  inflame, 
But  that  sweete  fit  that  doth  true  beautie  love, 
And  choseth  vertue  for  his  dearest  Dame, 
Whence  spring  all  noble  deedes  and  never  dying  fame  : 

ii.  Well  did  Antiquity  a  God  thee  deeme, 

That  over  mortall  mindes  hast  so  great  might, 

To  order  them  as  best  to  thee  doth  seeme, 

And  all  their  actions  to  direct  aright: 

The  fatall  purpose  of  divine  foresight 

Thou  doest  effect  in  destined  descents, 

Through  deepe  impression  of  thy  secret  might, 

And  stirredst  up  th'  Heroes  high  intents, 

Which  the  late  world  admyres  for  wondrous  moniments. 

in.  But  thy  dredd  dartes  in  none  doe  triumph  more, 
Ne  braver  proofe  in  any  of  thy  powre 
Shewd'st  thou,  then  in  this  royall  Maid  of  yore, 
Making  her  seeke  an  unknowne  Paramoure, 
From  the  worlds  end,  through  many  a  bitter  stowre: 
From  whose  two  loynes  thou  afterwardes  did  rayse 
Most  famous  fruites  of  matrimoniall  bowre, 
Which  through  the  earth  have  spredd  their  living  prayse, 
That  fame  in  tromp  of  gold  eternally  displayes, 

iv.  Begin  then,  0  my  dearest  sacred  Dame ! 
Daughter  of  Phoebus  and  of  Memorye, 
That  doest  ennoble  with  immortall  name 

Book  III— Canto  III  367 

The  warlike  Worthies,  from  antiquitye, 
In  thy  great  volume  of  Eternitye: 
Begin,  O  Clio !  and  recount  from  hence 
My  glorious  Soveraines  goodly  auncestrye, 
Till  that  by  dew  degrees,  and  long  pretense, 
Thou  have  it  lastly  brought  unto  her  Excellence* 

v.  Full  many  wayes  within  her  troubled  mind 
Old  Glauc£  cast  to  cure  this  Ladies  grief e; 
Full  many  waies  she  sought,  but  none  could  find, 
Nor  herbes,  nor  charmes,  nor  counsel,  that  is  chiefe 
And  choicest  med'cine  for  sick  harts  reliefer 
Forthy  great  care  she  tooke,  and  greater  feare, 
Least  that  it  should  her  turne  to  fowle  repriefe 
And  sore  reproch,  when  so  her  father  deare 
Should  of  his  dearest  daughters  hard  misfortune  heare. 

vi.  At  last  she  her  avisde,  that  he  which  made 
That  mirrhour,  wherein  the  sicke  Damosell 
So  straungely  vewed  her  straunge  lovers  shade, 
To  weet,  the  learned  Merlin,  well  could  tell 
Under  what  coast  of  heaven  the  man  did  dwell, 
And  by  what  means  his  love  might  best  be  wrought: 
For,  though  beyond  the  Africk  Ismael 
Or  th'  Indian  Peru  he  were,  she  thought 
Him  forth  through  infinite  endevour  to  have  sought. 

vii.  Forthwith  them  selves  disguising  both  in  straunge 
And  base  atyre,  that  none  might  them  bewray, 
To  Maridunum,  that  is  now  by  chaunge 
Of  name  Cayr-Merdin  cald,  they  tooke  their  way: 
There  the  wise  Merlin  whylome  wont  (they  say) 
To  make  his  wonne,  low  underneath  the  ground, 
In  a  deepe  delve,  farre  from  the  vew  of  day, 
That  of  no  living  wight  he  mote  be  found, 
When  he  so  counseld  with  his  sprights  encompast  round. 

viii.  And,  if  thou  ever  happen  that  same  way 
To  traveill,  go  to  see  that  dreadful  place. 
It  is  an  hideous  hollow  cave  (they  say) 
Under  a  Rock  that  lyes  a  litle  space 
From  the  swift  Barry,  tombling  downe  apace 
Emongst  the  woody  hilles  of  Dynevowre: 


The  Faerie  Queene 

But  dare  thou  not,  I  charge,  in  any  cace 

To  enter  into  that  same  baleful  Bowre, 

For  f eare  the  cruell  Feendes  should  thee  unwares'devowre : 

ix.  But  standing  high  aloft  low  lay  thine  eare, 
And  there  such  ghastly  noyse  of  yron  chaines 
And  brasen  Caudrons  thou  shalt  rombling  heare, 
Which  thousand  sprights  with  long  enduring  paines 
Doe  tosse,  that  it  will  stonn  thy  feeble  braines ; 
And  oftentimes  great  grones,  and  grevious  stownds, 
When  too  huge  toile  and  labour  them  constraines, 
And  oftentimes  loud  strokes  and  ringing  sowndes 
From  under  that  deepe  Rock  most  horribly  rebowndes. 

x.  The  cause,  some  say,  is  this :  A  litle  whyle 
Before  that  Merlin  dyde,  he  did  intend 
A  brasen  wall  in  compas  to  compyle 
About  Cairmardin,  and  did  it  commend 
Unto  these  Sprights  to  bring  to  perfect  end : 
During  which  worke  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
Whom  long  he  lov'd,  for  him  in  hast  did  send; 
Who,  thereby  forst  his  workemen  to  forsake, 
Them  bownd  till  his  retourne  their  labour  not  to  slake, 

xi.  In  the  meane  time,  through  that  false  Ladies  traine 
He  was  surprisd,  and  buried  under  beare, 
Ne  ever  to  his  worke  returnd  againe : 
Nath'lesse  those  feends  may  not  their  work  forbeare, 
So  greatly  his  commandement  they  feare, 
But  there  doe  toyle  and  traveile  day  and  night, 
Untill  that  brasen  wall  they  up  doe  reare; 
For  Merlin  had  in  Magick  more  insight 
Then  ever  him  before,  or  after,  living  wight: 

ni.  For  he  by  wordes  could  call  out  of  the  sky 

Both  Sunne  and  Moone,  and  make  them  him  obay; 

The  Land  to  sea,  and  sea  to  maineland  dry, 

And  darksom  night  he  eke  could  turne  to  day : 

Huge  hostes  of  men  he  could  alone  dismay, 

And  hostes  of  men  of  meanest  thinges  could  frame, 

When  so  him  list  his  enimies  to  fray ; 

That  to  this  day,  for  terror  of  his  fame, 

The  feends  do  quake  when  any  him  to  them  does  name. 

Book  III— Canto  III  369 

xiii.  And,  sooth,  men  say  that  he  was  not  the  sonne 
Of  mortall  Syre  or  other  living  wight, 
But  wondrously  begotten,  and  begonne 
By  false  illusion  of  a  guilefull  Spright 
On  a  faire  Lady  Nonne,  that  whilome  hight 
Matilda,  daughter  to  Pubidius, 
Who  was  the  lord  of  Mathraval  by  right, 
And  coosen  unto  king  Ambrosius; 
Whence  he  indued  was  with  skill  so  merveilous. 

xiv.  They,  here  arriving,  staid  awhile  without, 
Ne  durst  adventure  rashly  in  to  wend, 
But  of  their  first  intent  gan  make  new  dout, 
For  dread  of  daunger  which  it  might  portend; 
Untill  the  hardy  Mayd  (with  love  to  frend) 
First  entering,  the  dreadfull  Mage  there  fownd 
Deepe  busied  bout  worke  of  wondrous  end, 
And  writing  straunge  characters  in  the  grownd, 
With  which  the  stubborne  feendes  he  to  his  service  bownd. 

xv.  He  nought  was  moved  at  their  entraunce  bold, 
For  of  their  comming  well  he  wist  afore ; 
Yet  list  them  bid  their  businesse  to  unfold, 
As  if  ought  in  this  world  in  secrete  store 
Were  from  him  hidden,  or  unknowne  of  yore. 
Then  Glauce  thus:  "  Let  not  it  thee  offend, 
That  we  thus  rashly  through  thy  darksom  dore 
Unwares  have  prest;  for  either  fa  tall  end, 
Or  other  mightie  cause,  us  two  did  hither  send." 

xvi.  He  bad  tell  on;  And  then  she  thus  began. 

"  Now  have  three  Moones  with  borrowd  brothers  light 
Thrise  shined  faire,  and  thrise  seemd  dim  and  wan, 
Sith  a  sore  evill,  which  this  virgin  bright 
Tormenteth  and  doth  plonge  in  dolefull  plight, 
First  rooting  tooke ;  but  what  thing  it  mote  bee, 
Or  whence  it  sprong,  I  can  not  read  aright: 
But  this  I  read,  that,  but  if  remedee 
Thou  her  afford,  full  shortly  I  her  dead  shall  see." 

xvil.  Therewith  th'  Enchaunter  softly  gan  to  smyle 
At  her  smooth  speeches,  weeting  inly  well 
That  she  to  him  dissembled  womanish  guyle, 

370  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  to  her  said :  "  Beldame,  by  that  ye  tell 

More  neede  of  leach-crafte  hath  your  Damozell, 

Then  of  my  skill :  who  helpe  may  have  elsewhere, 

In  vaine  seekes  wonders  out  of  Magick  spell." 

Th'  old  woman  wox  half  blanck  those  wordes  to  heare, 

And  yet  was  loth  to  let  her  purpose  plaine  appeare; 

xviii.  And  to  him  said :  "  Yf  any  leaches  skill, 

Or  other  learned  meanes,  could  have  redrest 

This  my  deare  daughters  deepe  engraffed  ill, 

Certes  I  should  be  loth  thee  to  molest; 

But  this  sad  eviil,  which  dost  her  infest, 

Doth  course  of  naturall  cause  farre  exceed, 

And  housed  is  within  her  hollow  brest, 

That  either  seemes  some  cursed  witches  deed, 

Or  evill  spright,  that  in  her  doth  such  torment  breed." 

xix.  The  wisard  could  no  lenger  beare  her  bord, 
But,  bursting  forth  in  laughter,  to  her  sayd : 
"  Glauc&,  what  needes  this  colourable  word 
To  cloke  the  cause  that  hath  it  self e  bewrayd  ? 
Ne  ye,  fayre  Britomartis,  thus  arayd, 
More  hidden  are  then  Sunne  in  cloudy  vele ; 
Whom  thy  good  fortune,  having  fate  obayd, 
Hath  hither  brought  for  succour  to  appele; 
The  which  the  powres  to  thee  are  pleased  to  revele." 

xx.  The  doubtfull  Mayd,  seeing  her  selfe  descryde, 
Was  all  abasht,  and  her  pure  yvory 
Into  a  cleare  Carnation  suddeine  dyde; 
As  fayre  Aurora,  rysing  hastily, 
Doth  by  her  blushing  tell  that  she  did  lye 
All  night  in  old  Tithonus  frozen  bed, 
Whereof  she  seemes  ashamed  inwardly: 
But  her  olde  Nourse  was  nought  dishartened, 
But  vauntage  made  of  that  which  Merlin  had  ared ; 

xxi.  And  sayd;  "  Sith  then  thou  knowest  all  our  griefe, 
(For  what  doest  not  thou  knowe  ?)  of  grace  I  pray, 
Pitty  our  playnt,  and  yield  us  meet  reliefe." 
With  that  the  Prophet  still  awhile  did  stay, 
And  then  his  spirite  thus  gan  foorth  display : 
"  Most  noble  Virgin,  that  by  fatall  lore 

Book  III— Canto  III  371 

Hast  leaned  to  love,  let  no  whit  thee  dismay 

The  hard  beginne  that  meetes  thee  in  the  dore, 

And  with  sharpe  fits  thy  tender  hart  oppresseth  sore : 

xxii.  "  For  so  must  all  things  excellent  begin; 
And  eke  enrooted  deepe  must  be  that  Tree, 
Whose  big  embodied  braunches  shall  not  lin 
Till  they  to  hevens  hight  forth  stretched  bee: 
For  from  thy  wombe  a  famous  Progenee 
Shall  spring  out  of  the  auncient  Trojan  blood, 
Which  shall  revive  the  sleeping  memoree 
Of  those  same  antique  Peres,  the  hevens  brood, 
Which  Greeke  and  Asian  rivers  stayned  with  their  blood. 

xxiii.  "  Renowmed  kings,  and  sacred  Emperours, 

Thy  fruitfull  Of  spring,  shall  from  thee  descend; 
Brave  Captaines,  and  most  mighty  warriours, 
That  shall  their  conquests  through  all  lands  extend, 
And  their  decayed  kingdomes  shall  amend: 
The  feeble  Britons,  broken  with  long  warre, 
They  shall  upreare,  and  mightily  defend 
Against  their  forren  foe  that  commes  from  farre, 
Till  universall  peace  compound  all  civill  jarre. 

xxi v.  "  It  was  not,  Britomart,  thy  wandring  eye 
Glauncing  unwares  in  charmed  looking  glas, 
But  the  streight  course  of  hevenly  destiny, 
Led  with  eternall  providence,  that  has 
Guyded  thy  glaunce,  to  bring  his  will  to  pas: 
Ne  is  thy  fate,  ne  is  thy  fortune  ill, 
To  love  the  prowest  knight  that  ever  was. 
Therefore  submit  thy  wayes  unto  his  will, 
And  doe  by  all  dew  meanes  thy  destiny  fulfill." 

xxv.  "  But  read,"  (saide  Glauce)  "  thou  Magitian, 

WThat  meanes  shall  she  out  seeke,  or  what  waies  take  ? 
How  shall  she  know,  how  shall  she  finde  the  man? 
Or  what  needes  her  to  toyle,  sith  fates  can  make 
Way  for  themselves  their  purpose  to  pertake?  " 
Then  Merlin  thus :   "  Indeede  the  fates  are  firme, 
And  may  not  shrinck,  though  all  the  world  do  shake; 
Yet  ought  mens  good  endevours  them  confirme, 
And  guyde  the  heavenly  causes  to  their  constant  terme. 

IJ2  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  "  The  man,  whom  heavens  have  ordaynd  to  bee 
The  spouse  of  Britomart,  is  Arthegall: 
He  wonneth  in  the  land  of  Fayeree, 
Yet  is  no  Fary  borne,  ne  sib  at  all 
To  Elfes,  but  sprong  of  seed  terrestrially 
And  whylome  by  false  Faries  stolne  away, 
Whyles  yet  in  infant  cradle  he  did  crall; 
Ne  other  to  himselfe  is  knowne  this  day, 
But  that  he  by  an  Elfe  was  gotten  of  a  Fay: 

xxvii.  "  But  sooth  he  is  the  sonne  of  Gorloi's, 
And  brother  unto  Cador,  Cornish  king; 
And  for  his  warlike  feates  renowmed  is, 
From  where  the  day  out  of  the  sea  doth  spring, 
Untill  the  closure  of  the  Evening: 
From  thence  him,  firmely  bound  with  faithfull  band, 
To  this  his  native  soyle  thou  backe  shalt  bring, 
Strongly  to  ayde  his  countrey  to  withstand 
The  powre  of  forreine  Paynims  which  invade  thy  land. 

xxviii.  "  Great  ayd  thereto  his  mighty  puissaunce 

And  dreaded  name  shall  give  in  that  sad  day; 

Where  also  proofe  of  thy  prow  valiaunce 

Thou  then  shalt  make,  t'increase  thy  lover's  pray. 

Long  time  ye  both  in  armes  shall  beare  great  sway, 

Till  thy  wombes  burden  thee  from  them  do  call, 

And  his  last  fate  him  from  thee  take  away; 

Too  rathe  cut  off  by  practise  criminall 

Of  secrete  foes,  that  him  shall  make  in  mischiefe  fall. 

xxix.  "  With  thee  yet  shall  he  leave,  for  memory 
Of  his  late  puissaunce,  his  ymage  dead, 
That  living  him  in  all  activity 
To  thee  shall  represent.     He,  from  the  head 
Of  his  coosen  Constantius,  without  dread 
Shall  take  the  crowne  that  was  his  fathers  right, 
And  therewith  crowne  himselfe  in  th'  others  stead: 
Then  shall  he  issew  forth  with  dreadfull  might 
Against  his  Saxon  foes  in  bloody  field  to  fight. 

xxx.  "  Like  as  a  Lyon  that  in  drowsie  cave 

Hath  long  time  slept,  himselfe  so  shall  he  shake; 
And  comming  forth  shall  spred  his  banner  brave 

Book  III— Canto  III 


Over  the  troubled  South,  that  it  shall  make 

The  warlike  Mertians  for  feare  to  quake: 

Thrise  shall  he  fight  with  them,  and  twise  shall  win; 

But  the  third  time  shall  fayre  accordaunce  make: 

And,  if  he  then  with  victorie  can  lin, 

He  shall  his  dayes  with  peace  bring  to  his  earthly  In. 

xxxi.  "  His  sonne,  hight  Vortipore,  shall  him  succeede 
In  kingdome,  but  not  in  felicity: 
Yet  shall  he  long  time  warre  with  happy  speed, 
And  with  great  honour  many  batteills  try; 
But  at  the  last  to  th'  importunity 
Of  fro  ward  fortune  shall  be  forst  to  yield : 
But  his  sonne  Malgo  shall  full  mightily 
Avenge  his  fathers  losse  with  speare  and  shield, 
And  his  proud  foes  discomfit  in  victorious  field. 

xxxii.  "  Behold  the  man !  and  tell  me,  Britomart, 
If  ay  more  goodly  creature  thou  didst  see? 
How  like  a  Gyaunt  in  each  manly  part 
Beares  he  himself e  with  portly  majestee, 
That  one  of  th'  old  Heroes  seemes  to  bee ! 
He  the  six  Islands,  comprovinciall 
In  auncient  times  unto  great  Britainee, 
Shall  to  the  same  reduce,  and  to  him  call 
Their  sondry  kings  to  do  their  homage  severall. 

xxxiii.  "  All  which  his  sonne  Careticus  awhile 

Shall  well  defend,  and  Saxons  powre  suppresse; 
Untill  a  straunger  king,  from  unknowne  soyle 
Arriving,  him  with  multitude  oppresse; 
Great  Gormond,  having  with  huge  mightinesse 
Ireland  subdewd,  and  therein  fixt  his  throne, 
Like  a  swift  Otter,  fell  through  emptinesse, 
Shall  overswim  the  sea,  with  many  one 
Of  his  Norveyses,  to  assist  the  Britons  fone, 

xxxi  v.  "  He  in  his  furie  shall  overronne, 

And  holy  Church  with  faithlesse  handes  deface, 
That  thy  sad  people,  utterly  fordonne, 
Shall  to  the  utmost  mountaines  fly  apace. 
Was  never  so  great  waste  in  any  place, 
Nor  so  fowle  outrage  doen  by  living  men ; 

374  The  Faerie  Queene 

For  all  thy  Citties  they  shall  sacke  and  race, 

And  the  greene  grasse  that  groweth  they  shall  bren, 

That  even  the  wilde  beast  shall  dy  in  starved  den. 

xxxv.  "  Whiles  thus  thy  Britons  doe  in  languour  pine, 
Proud  Etheldred  shall  from  the  North  arise, 
Serving  th'  ambitious  will  of  Augustine, 
And,  passing  Dee,  with  hardy  enterprise 
Shall  backe  repulse  the  valiaunt  Brockwell  twise, 
And  Bangor  with  massacred  Martyrs  fill, 
But  the  third  time  shall  rew  his  foolhardise: 
For  Cadwan,  pittying  his  peoples  ill, 
Shall  stoutly  him  defeat,  and  thousand  Saxons  kill. 

xxxvi.  "  But  after  him,  Cadwallin  mightily 

On  his  sonne  Edwin  all  those  wrongs  shall  wreake; 
Ne  shall  availe  the  wicked  sorcery 
Of  false  Pellite  his  purposes  to  breake, 
But  him  shall  slay,  and  on  a  gallowes  bleak 
Shall  give  th'  enchaunter  his  unhappy  hire. 
Then  shall  the  Britons,  late  dismayd  and  weake, 
From  their  long  vassalage  gin  to  respire, 
And  on  their  Paynim  foes  avenge  their  ranckled  ire. 

xxxvu.  "  Ne  shall  he  yet  his  wrath  so  mitigate, 

Till  both  the  sonnes  of  Edwin  he  have  slayne, 

Oftricke  and  Osricke,  twinnes  unfortunate, 

Both  slaine  in  battaile  upon  Layburne  playne, 

Together  with  the  king  of  Louthiane, 

Hight  Adin,  and  the  king  of  Orkeny, 

Both  joynt  partakers  of  their  fa  tall  payne: 

But  Penda,  fearefull  of  like  desteny, 

Shall  yield  him  selfe  his  liegeman,  and  sweare  fealty. 

xxxviii.  "  Him  shall  he  make  his  fatall  Instrument 
T'  afflict  the  other  Saxons  unsubdewd; 
He  marching  forth  with  fury  insolent 
Against  the  good  king  Oswald,  who  indewd 
With  heavenly  powre,  and  by  Angels  reskewd, 
Al  holding  crosses  in  their  hands  on  hye, 
Shall  him  defeate  withouten  blood  imbrewd: 
Of  which  that  field,  for  endlesse  memory, 
Shall  Hevenfield  be  cald  to  all  posterity. 

Book  III— Canto  III  375 

xxxix.  "  Whereat  Cadwallin  wroth  shall  forth  issew, 
And  an  huge  hoste  into  Northumber  lead, 
With  which  he  godly  Oswald  shall  subdew, 
And  crowne  with  martiredome  his  sacred  head: 
Whose  brother  Oswin,  daunted  with  like  dread, 
With  price  of  silver  shall  his  kingdome  buy; 
And  Penda,  seeking  him  adowne  to  tread, 
Shall  tread  adowne,  and  doe  him  fowly  dye; 
But  shall  with  guifts  his  Lord  Cadwallin  pacify. 

XL.  "  Then  shall  Cadwallin  die;  and  then  the  raine 
Of  Britons  eke  with  him  attonce  shall  dye; 
Ne  shall  the  good  Cadwallader,  with  paine 
Or  powre,  be  hable  it  to  remedy, 
When  the  full  time,  prefixt  by  destiny, 
Shall  be  expird  of  Britons  regiment: 
For  heven  it  selfe  shall  their  successe  envy, 
And  them  with  plagues  and  murrins  pestilent 
Consume,  till  all  their  warlike  puissaunce  be  spent. 

xli.  Yet  after  all  these  sorrowes,  and  huge  hills 
Of  dying  people,  during  eight  yeares  space, 
Cadwallader,  not  yielding  to  his  ills, 
From  Armoricke,  where  long  in  wretched  cace 
He  liv'd,  retourning  to  his  native  place, 
Shal  be  by  vision  staide  from  his  intent: 
For  th'  heavens  have  decreed  to  displace 
The  Britons  for  their  sinnes  dew  punishment 
And  to  the  Saxons  over-give  their  government. 

xlii.  "  Then  woe,  and  woe,  and  everlasting  woe, 
Be  to  the  Briton  babe  that  shal  be  borne 
To  live  in  thraldome  of  his  fathers  foe ! 
Late  king,  now  captive;  late  lord,  now  forlorne; 
The  worlds  reproch;  the  cruell  victors  scorne; 
Banisht  from  princely  bowre  to  wastefull  wood  I 
0 !  who  shal  helpe  me  to  lament  and  mourne 
The  royall  seed,  the  antique  Trojan  blood, 
Whose  empire  lenger  here  then  ever  any  stood?  " 

xliii.  The  Damzell  was  full  deepe  empassioned 

Both  for  his  griefe,  and  for  her  peoples  sake, 
Whose  future  woes  so  plaine  he  fashioned ; 

376  The  Faerie  Queene 

And,  sighing  sore,  at  length  him  thus  bespake : 

"  Ah !  but  will  hevens  fury  never  slake, 

Nor  vengeaunce  huge  relent  it  selfe  at  last? 

Will  not  long  misery  late  mercy  make, 

But  shall  their  name  for  ever  be  defaste, 

And  quite  from  off  the  earth  their  memory  be  raste  ?  " 

xliv.  "  Nay  but  the  terme  "  (sayd  he)  "  is  limited, 
That  in  this  thraldome  Britons  shall  abide; 
And  the  just  revolution  measured 
That  they  as  Straungers  shall  be  notifide : 
For  twise  fowre  hundreth  yeares  shal  be  supplide, 
Ere  they  to  former  rule  restor'd  shal  bee, 
And  their  importune  fates  all  satisfide: 
Yet;  during  this  their  most  obscuritee, 
Their  beames  shall  ofte  breake  forth,  that   men  them 
faire  may  see. 

xlv.  "  For  Rhodoricke,  whose  surname  shal  be  Great, 
Shall  of  him  selfe  a  brave  ensample  shew, 
That  Saxon  kinges  his  friendship  shall  in  treat; 
And  Howell  Dha  shall  goodly  well  indew 
The  salvage  minds  with  skill  of  just  and  trew: 
Then  Grirfyth  Conan  also  shall  upreare 
His  dreaded  head,  and  the  old  sparkes  renew 
Of  native  corage,  that  his  foes  shall  feare, 
Least  back  againe  the  kingdom  he  from  them  should  beare. 

xlvi.  "  Ne  shall  the  Saxons  selves  all  peaceably 

Enjoy  the  crowne,  which  they  from  Britons  wonne 

First  ill,  and  after  ruled  wickedly; 

For,  ere  two  hundred  yeares  be  full  outronne. 

There  shall  a  Raven,  far  from  rising  Sunne, 

With  his  wide  wings  upon  them  fiercely  fly, 

And  bid  his  faithlesse  chickens  overronne 

The  fruitfull  plaines,  and  with  fell  cruelty 

In  their  avenge  tread  downe  the  victors  surquedry. 

xlvii.  "  Yet  shall  a  third  both  these  and  thine  subdew. 
There  shall  a  Lion  from  the  sea-bord  wood 
Of  Neustria  come  roring,  with  a  crew 
Of  hungry  whelpes,  his  battailous  bold  brood, 
Whose  clawes  were  newly  dipt  in  cruddy  blood, 
That  from  the  Daniske  Tyrants  head  shall  rend 

Book  III — Canto  III  377 

TV  usurped  crowne,  as  if  that  he  were  wood, 

And  the  spoile  of  the  countrey  conquered 

Emongst  his  young  ones  shall  divide  with  bountyhed. 

xlviii.  "  Tho,  when  the  terme  is  full  accomplished, 

There  shall  a  sparke  of  fire,  which  hath  longwhile 

Bene  in  his  ashes  raked  up  and  hid, 

Bee  freshly  kindled  in  the  fruitfull  He 

Of  Mona,  where  it  lurked  in  exile ; 

Which  shall  breake  forth  into  bright  burning  flame, 

And  reach  into  the  house  that  beares  the  stile 

Of  roiall  majesty  and  soveraine  name : 

So  shall  the  Briton  blood  their  crowne  agayn  reclame. 

xlix.  "  Thenceforth  eternall  union  shall  be  made 
Betweene  the  nations  different  afore, 
And  sacred  Peace  shall  lovingly  persuade 
The  warlike  minds  to  learne  her  goodly  lore, 
And  civile  armes  to  exercise  no  more: 
Then  shall  a  royall  Virgin  raine,  which  shall 
Stretch  her  white  rod  over  the  Belgicke  shore, 
And  the  great  Castle  smite  so  sore  withall, 
That  it  shall  make  him  shake,  and  shortly  learn  to  fall. 

L.  "  But  yet  the  end  is  not." — There  Merlin  stayd, 
As  overcomen  of  the  spirites  powre, 
Or  other  ghastly  spectacle  dismayd, 
That  secretly  he  saw,  yet  note  discoure : 
Which  suddein  fitt,  and  halfe  extatick  stoure, 
When  the  two  fearefull  wemen  saw,  they  grew 
Greatly  confused  in  behaveoure. 
At  last,  the  fury  past,  to  former  hew 
Hee  turnd  againe,  and  chearfull  looks  as  earst  did  shew. 

li.  Then,  when  them  selves  they  well  instructed  had 
Of  all  that  needed  them  to  be  inquird, 
They  both,  conceiving  hope  of  comfort  glad, 
With  lighter  hearts  unto  their  home  retird; 
Where  they  in  secret  counsell  close  conspird, 
How  to  effect  so  hard  an  enterprize, 
And  to  possesse  the  purpose  they  desird: 
Now  this,  now  that,  twixt  them  they  did  devize, 
And  diverse  plots  did  frame  to  maske  in  strange  disguise. 

378  The  Faerie  Queene 

lii.  At  last  the  Nourse  in  her  foolhardy  wit 
Conceiv'd  a  bold  devise,  and  thus  bespake: 
"  Daughter,  I  deeme  that  counsel  aye  most  fit, 
That  of  the  time  doth  dew  advauntage  take. 
Ye  see  that  good  king  Uther  now  doth  make 
Strong  warre  upon  the  Paynim  brethren,  hight 
Octa  and  Oza,  whome  hee  lately  brake 
Beside  Cayr  Verolame  in  victorious  fight, 
That  now  all  Britany  doth  burne  in  armes  bright, 

liii.  "  That,  therefore,  nought  our  passage  may  empeach, 
Let  us  in  feigned  armes  our  selves  disguize, 
And  our  weake  hands  (need  makes  good  schollers)  teach 
The  dreadful  speare  and  shield  to  exercize  : 
Ne  certes,  daughter,  that  same  warlike  wize, 
I  weene,  would  you  misseeme;  for  ye  beene  tall, 
And  large  of  limbe  t'  atchieve  an  hard  emprize ; 
Ne  ought  ye  want  but  skil,  which  practize  small 
Wil  bring,  and  shortly  make  you  a  mayd  Martiall, 

liv.  "  And,  sooth,  it  ought  your  corage  much  inflame 
To  heare  so  often,  in  that  royall  hous, 
From  whence,  to  none  inferior,  ye  came, 
Bards  tell  of  many  wemen  valorous, 
Which  have  full  many  feats  adventurous 
Performd,  in  paragone  of  proudest  men: 
The  bold  Bunduca,  whose  victorious 
Exployts  made  Rome  to  quake;  stout  Guendolen; 
Renowmed  Martia;  and  redoubted  Emmilen. 

lv.  "  And,  that  which  more  then  all  the  rest  may  sway, 
Late  dayes  ensample,  which  these  eyes  beheld: 
In  the  last  field  before  Menevia, 
Which  Uther  with  those  forrein  Pagans  held, 
I  saw  a  Saxon  Virgin,  the  which  feld 
Great  Ulfin  thrise  upon  the  bloody  playne; 
And,  had  not  Carados  her  hand  withheld 
From  rash  revenge,  she  had  him  surely  slayne: 
Yet  Carados  himselfe  from  her  escapt  with  payne." 

lvi.  "  Ah!  read,"  (quoth  Britomart)  "  how  is  she  hight?  " 
"  Fayre  Angela  "  (quoth  she)  "  men  do  her  call, 
No  whit  lesse  fayre  then  terrible  in  fight: 

Book  III — Canto  III  379 

She  hath  the  leading  of  a  Martiall 
And  mightie  people,  dreaded  more  then  all 
The  other  Saxons,  which  doe,  for  her  sake 
And  love,  themselves  of  her  name  Angles  call. 
Therefore,  faire  Infant,  her  ensample  make 
Unto  thy  selfe,  and  equall  corage  to  thee  take." 

lvii.  Her  harty  wordes  so  deepe  into  the  mynd 

Of  the  yong  Damzell  sunke,  that  great  desire 
Of  warlike  armes  in  her  forthwith  they  tynd, 
And  generous  stout  courage  did  inspyre, 
That  she  resolv'd,  unweeting  to  her  Syre, 
Advent'rous  knighthood  on  her  selfe  to  don ; 
And  counseld  with  her  Nourse  her  Maides  attyre 
To  turne  into  a  massy  habergeon, 
And  bad  her  all  things  put  in  readinesse  anon. 

lviii.  Th'  old  woman  nought  that  needed  did  omit, 
But  all  thinges  did  conveniently  purvay. 
It  fortuned  (so  time  their  turne  did  fitt) 
A  band  of  Britons,  ryding  on  forray 
Few  dayes  before,  had  gotten  a  great  pray 
Of  Saxon  goods;  emongst  the  which  was  seene 
A  goodly  Armour,  and  full  rich  aray, 
Which  long'd  to  Angela,  the  Saxon  Queene, 
All  fretted  round  with  gold,  and  goodly  wel  beseene. 

lix.  The  same,  with  all  the  other  ornaments, 
King  Ryence  caused  to  be  hanged  hy 
In  his  chiefe  Church,  for  endlesse  moniments 
Of  his  successe  and  gladf ull  victory : 
Of  which  her  selfe  avising  readily. 
In  th'  evening  late  old  Glauce  thither  led 
Faire  Britomart,  and,  that  same  Armory 
Downe  taking,  her  therein  appareled 
Well  as  she  might,  and  with  brave  bauldrick  garnished. 

lx.  Beside  those  armes  there  stood  a  mightie  speare, 
Which  Bladud  made  by  Magick  art  of  yore, 
And  usd  the  same  in  batteill  aye  to  beare; 
Sith  which  it  had  beene  here  preserv'd  in  store, 
For  his  great  virtues  proved  long  afore  : 
For  never  wight  so  fast  in  sell  could  sit, 

380  The  Faerie  Queene 

But  him  perforce  unto  the  ground  it  bore. 

Both  speare  she  tooke  and  shield  which  hong  by  it; 

Both  speare  and  shield  of  great  powre,  tor  her  purpose  fit. 

lxi.  Thus  when  she  had  the  virgin  all  arayd, 
Another  harnesse  which  did  hang  thereby 
About  her  selfe  she  dight,  that  the  yong  Mayd 
She  might  in  equall  armes  accompany, 
And  as  her  Squyre  attend  her  carefully. 
Tho  to  their  ready  Steedes  they  clombe  full  light, 
And  through  back  waies,  that  none  might  them  espy, 
Covered  with  secret  cloud  of  silent  night, 
Themselves  they  forth  convaid,  and  passed  forward  right. 

lxii.  Ne  rested  they,  till  that  to  Faery  lond 
They  came,  as  Merlin  them  directed  late: 
Where,  meeting  with  this  Redcrosse  Knight,  she  fond 
Of  diverse  thinges  discourses  to  dilate, 
And  most  of  Arthegall  and  his  estate. 
At  last  their  waves  so  fell,  that  they  mote  part: 
Then  each  to  other,  well  affectionate, 
Friendship  professed  with  unfained  hart. 
The  Redcrosse  Knight  diverst,  but  forth  rode  Britomart. 

Book  III— Canto  IV  381 


Bold  Marinell  of  Britomart 
Is  throwne  on  the  Rich  Strond 
Faire  Florimell  of  Arthure  is 
Long  followed,  but  not  fond. 

I.  Where  is  the  Antique  glory  now  become, 
That  whylome  wont  in  wemen  to  appeare  ? 
Where  be  the  brave  atchievements  doen  by  some? 
Where  be  the  batteilles,  where  the  shield  and  speare, 
And  all  the  conquests  which  them  high  did  reare, 
That  matter  made  for  famous  Poets  verse, 
And  boastfull  men  so  oft  abasht  to  heare  ? 
Beene  they  all  dead,  and  laide  in  dolefull  herse, 
Or  doen  they  onely  sleepe,  and  shall  againe  reverse  ? 

11.  If  they  be  dead,  then  woe  is  me  therefore; 
But  if  they  sleepe,  0  let  them  soone  awake ! 
For  all  too  long  I  burne  with  envy  sore 
To  heare  the  warlike  feates  which  Homere  spake 
Of  bold  Penthesilee,  which  made  a  lake 
Of  Greekish  blood  so  ofte  in  Trojan  plaine; 
But  when  I  reade,  how  stout  Debora  strake 
Proud  Sisera,  and  how  CamilP  hath  slaine 
The  huge  Orsilochus,  I  swell  with  great  disdaine. 

in.  Yet  these,  and  all  that  els  had  puissaunce, 
Cannot  with  noble  Britomart  compare, 
As  well  for  glorie  of  great  valiaunce, 
As  for  pure  chastitee  and  vertue  rare, 
That  all  her  goodly  deedes  doe  well  declare. 
Well  worthie  stock,  from  which  the  branches  sprong 
That  in  late  yeares  so  faire  a  blossome  bare, 
As  thee,  0  Queene !  the  matter  of  my  song, 
Whose  lignage  from  this  Lady  I  derive  along. 

iv.  Who  when,  through  speaches  with  the  Redcrosse  Knight, 
She  learned  had  th'  estate  of  Arthegall, 
And  in  each  point  her  selfe  informd  aright, 

382  The  Faerie  Queene 

A  friendly  league  of  love  perpetuall 

She  with  him  bound,  and  Conge  tooke  withall : 

Then  he  forth  on  his  journey  did  proceede, 

To  seeke  adventures  which  mote  him  befall, 

And  win  him  worship  through  his  warlike  deed, 

Which  alwaies  of  his  paines  he  made  the  chief  est  meed. 

V.  But  Britomart  kept  on  her  former  course, 
Ne  ever  dofte  her  armes,  but  all  the  way 
Grew  pensive  through  that  amarous  discourse, 
By  which  the  Redcrosse  knight  did  earst  display 
Her  lovers  shape  and  chevalrous  aray : 
A  thousand  thoughts  she  fashiond  in  her  mind, 
And  in  her  feigning  fancie  did  pourtray 
Him  such  as  fittest  she  for  love  could  find, 
Wise,  warlike,  personable,  courteous,  and  kind. 

VI.  With  such  selfe-pleasing  thoughts  her  wound  she  fedd, 
And  thought  so  to  beguile  her  grievous  smart; 
But  so  her  smart  was  much  more  grievous  bredd, 
And  the  deepe  wound  more  deep  engord  her  hart, 
That  nought  but  death  her  dolour  mote  depart. 
So  forth  she  rode,  without  repose  or  rest, 
Searching  all  lands  and  each  remotest  part, 
Following  the  guydance  of  her  blinded  guest, 
Till  that  to  the  sea-coast  at  length  she  her  addrest. 

VII.  There  she  alighted  from  her  light-foot  beast, 
And  sitting  downe  upon  the  rocky  shore, 
Badd  her  old  Squyre  unlace  her  lofty  creast: 
Tho  having  vewd  awhile  the  surges  hore 
That  gainst  the  craggy  clifts  did  loudly  rore, 
And  in  their  raging  surquedry  disdaynd 
That  the  fast  earth  affronted  them  so  sore, 
And  their  devouring  covetize  restraynd ; 
Thereat  she  sighed  deepe,  and  after  thus  complaynd. 

viii.  "  Huge  sea  of  sorrow  and  tempestuous  griefe, 
WTherein  my  feeble  barke  is  tossed  long 
Far  from  the  hoped  haven  of  reliefe, 
Why  doe  thy  cruell  billowes  beat  so  strong, 
And  thy  moyst  mountaines  each  on  others  throng, 
Threatning  to  swallow  up  my  f earef ull  lyfe  ? 

Book  III— Canto  IV  383 

0 !  doe  thy  cruell  wrath  and  spightfull  wrong 

At  length  allay,  and  stint  thy  stormy  strife, 

Which  in  thy  troubled  bowels  raignes  and  rageth  ryfe. 

ix.  "  For  els  my  feeble  vessell,  crazd  and  crackt 

Through  thy  strong  buffets  and  outrageous  blowes, 
Cannot  endure,  but  needes  it  must  be  wrackt 
On  the  rough  rocks,  or  on  the  sandy  shallowes, 
The  whiles  that  love  it  steres,  and  fortune  rowes: 
Love,  my  lewd  Pilott,  hath  a  restlesse  minde; 
And  fortune,  Boteswaine,  no  assurance  knowes; 
But  saile  withouten  starres  against  tyde  and  winder 
How  can  they  other  doe,  sith  both  are  bold  and  blinde  ? 

x.  "  Thou  God  of  windes,  that  raignest  in  the  seas, 
That  raignest  also  in  the  Continent. 
At  last  blow  up  some  gentle  gale  of  ease, 
The  which  may  bring  my  ship,  ere  it  be  rent, 
Unto  the  gladsome  port  of  her  intent. 
Then,  when  I  shall  my  selfe  in  safety  see, 
A  table,  for  eternall  moniment 
Of  thy  great  grace  and  my  great  jeopardee, 
Great  Neptune,  I  avow  to  hallow  unto  thee !  " 

xi.  Then  sighing  softly  sore,  and  inly  deepe, 
She  shut  up  all  her  plaint  in  privy  griefe 
For  her  great  courage  would  not  let  her  weepe, 
Till  that  old  Glauce"  gan  with  sharpe  repriefe 
Her  to  restraine,  and  give  her  good  reliefe 
Through  hope  of  those,  which  Merlin  had  her  told 
Should  of  her  name  and  nation  be  chiefe, 
And  fetch  their  being  from  the  sacred  mould 
Of  her  immortall  womb,  to  be  in  heaven  enrold. 

xii.  Thus  as  she  her  recomforted,  she  spyde 
Where  far  away  one,  all  in  armour  bright, 
With  hasty  gallop  towards  her  did  ryde. 
Her  dolour  soone  she  ceast,  and  on  her  dight 
Her  Helmet,  to  her  Courser  mounting  light : 
Her  former  sorrow  into  suddein  wrath, 
Both  coosen  passions  of  distroubled  spright, 
Converting,  forth  she  beates  the  dusty  path: 
Love  and  despight  attonce  her  courage  kindled  hath. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  As,  when  a  foggy  mist  hath  overcast 

The  face  of  heven,  and  the  cleare  ayre  engroste, 

The  world  in  darkenes  dwels ;  till  that  at  last 

The  watry  Southwinde,  from  the  seabord  coste 

Upblowing,  doth  disperse  the  vapour  lo'ste, 

And  poures  it  selfe  forth  in  a  stormy  showre: 

So  the  fay  re  Britomart,  having  disclo'ste 

Her  clowdy  care  into  a  wrathfull  stowre, 

The  mist  of  griefe  dissolv'd  did  into  vengeance  powre. 

xiv.  Eftsoones,  her  goodly  shield  addressing  fayre, 
That  mortall  speare  she  in  her  hand  did  take, 
And  unto  battaill  did  her  selfe  prepayre. 
The  knight,  approching,  sternely  her  bespake: 
"  Sir  knight,  that  doest  thy  voyage  rashly  make 
By  this  forbidden  way  in  my  despight, 
Ne  doest  by  others  death  ensample  take, 
I  read  thee  soone  retyre,  whiles  thou  hast  might, 
Least  afterwards  it  be  too  late  to  take  thy  flight." 

xv.  Ythrild  with  deepe  disdaine  of  his  proud  threat, 
She  shortly  thus:   "  Fly  they,  that  need  to  fly; 
Wordes  fearen  babes.     I  meane  not  thee  entreat 
To  passe,  but  maugre  thee  will  passe  or  dy." 
Ne  lenger  stayd  for  th'  other  to  reply, 
But  with  sharpe  speare  the  rest  made  dearly  knowne. 
Strongly  the  straunge  knight  ran,  and  sturdily 
Strooke  her  full  on  the  brest,  that  made  her  downe 
Decline  her  head,  and  touch  her  crouper  with  her  crown. 

xvi.  But  she  againe  him  in  the  shield  did  smite 
With  so  fierce  furie  and  great  puissaunce, 
That,  through  his  three-square  scuchin  percing  quite 
And  through  his  mayled  hauberque,  by  mischaunce 
The  wicked  Steele  through  his  left  side  did  glaunce. 
Him  so  transfixed  she  before  her  bore 
Beyond  his  croupe,  the  length  of  all  her  launce ; 
Till,  sadly  soucing  on  the  sandy  shore, 
He  tombled  on  an  heape,  and  wallowd  in  his  gore^ 

xvii.  Like  as  the  sacred  Oxe  that  carelesse  stands, 

With  gilden  homes  and  flowry  girlonds  crownd, 
Proud  of  his  dying  honor  and  deare  bandes, 

Book  III— Canto  IV  385 

Whiles  th'  altars  fume  with  frankincense  arownd, 
All  suddeinly,  with  mortall  stroke  astownd, 
Doth  groveling  fall,  and  with  his  streaming  gore 
Distaines  the  pillours  and  the  holy  grownd, 
And  the  faire  flowres  that  decked  him  afore : 
So  fell  proud  Marinell  upon  the  pretious  shore, 

xviii.  The  martiall  Mayd  stayd  not  him  to  lament, 
But  forward  rode,  and  kept  her  ready  way 
Along  the  strond ;  which,  as  she  over-went, 
She  saw  bestrowed  all  with  rich  aray 
Of  pearles  and  pretious  stones  of  great  assav, 
And  all  the  gravell  mixt  with  golden  owre : 
Whereat  she  wondred  much,  but  would  not  stay 
For  gold,  or  perles,  or  pretious  stones,  an  howre, 
But  them  despised  all;  for  all  was  in  her  powre. 

xix.  Whiles  thus  he  lay  in  deadly  stonishment, 
Tydings  hereof  came  to  his  mothers  eare : 
His  mother  was  the  blacke-browd  Cymoent, 
The  daughter  of  great  Nereus,  which  did  beare 
This  warlike  sonne  unto  an  earthly  peare, 
The  famous  Dumarin;  who,  on  a  day 
Finding  the  Nymph  asleepe  in  secret  wheare, 
As  he  by  chaunce  did  wander  that  same  way, 
Was  taken  with  her  love,  and  by  her  closely  lay* 

xx.  There  he  this  knight  of  her  begot,  whom  borne 
She,  of  his  father,  Marinell  did  name; 
And  in  a  rocky  cave,  as  wight  forlorne, 
Long  time  she  fostred  up,  till  he  became 
A  mighty  man  at  armes,  and  mickle  fame 
Did  get  through  great  adventures  by  him  donne: 
For  never  man  he  sufrred  by  that  same 
Rich  strond  to  travell,  whereas  he  did  wonne, 
But  that  he  must  do  battail  with  the  Sea-nymphes  sonne. 

xxi.  An  hundred  knights  of  honorable  name 

He  had  subdew'd,  and  them  his  vassals  made 
That  through  all  Faerie  lond  his  noble  fame 
Now  blazed  was,  and  feare  did  all  invade, 
That  none  durst  passen  through  that  perilous  glade : 
And  to  advaunce  his  name  and  glory  more, 


The  Faerie  Queene 

Her  Sea-god  syre  she  dearely  did  perswade 

T  endow  her  sonne  with  threasure  and  rich  store 

Bove  all  the  sonnes  that  were  of  earthly  wombes  ybore. 

xxn.  The  God  did  graunt  his  daughters  deare  demaund, 
To  doen  his  Nephew  in  all  riches  flow; 
Eftsoones  his  heaped  waves  he  did  commaund 
Out  of  their  hollow  bosome  forth  to  throw 
All  the  huge  threasure,  which  the  sea  below 
Had  in  his  greedy  gulfe  devoured  deepe, 
And  him  enriched  through  the  overthrow 
And  wreckes  of  many  wretches,  which  did  weepe 
And  often  wayle  their  wealth,  which  he  from  them  did  keepe. 

xxiii.  Shortly  upon  that  shore  there  heaped  was 
Exceeding  riches  and  all  pretious  things, 
The  spoyle  of  all  the  world ;  that  it  did  pas 
The  wealth  of  th'  East,  and  pompe  of  Persian  kings : 
Gold,  ambre,  yvorie,  perles,  owches,  rings, 
And  all  that  els  was  pretious  and  deare, 
The  sea  unto  him  voluntary  brings; 
That  shortly  he  a  great  Lord  did  appeare, 
As  was  in  all  the  lond  of  Faery,  or  else  wheare. 

xxiv.  Thereto  he  was  a  doughty  dreaded  knight, 
Tryde  often  to  the  scath  of  many  Deare, 
That  none  in  equall  armes  him  matchen  might: 
The  which  his  mother  seeing  gan  to  feare 
Least  his  too  haughtie  hardines  might  reare 
Some  hard  mishap  in  hazard  of  his  life. 
Forthy  she  oft  him  counseld  to  forbeare 
The  bloody  batteill  and  to  stirre  up  strife, 
But  after  all  his  warre  to  rest  his  wearie  knife. 

xxv.  And,  for  his  more  assuraunce,  she  inquir'd 
One  day  of  Proteus  by  his  mighty  spell 
(For  Proteus  was  with  prophecy  inspir'd) 
Her  deare  sonnes  destiny  to  her  to  tell, 
And  the  sad  end  of  her  sweet  Marinell : 
Who,  through  foresight  of  his  eternall  skill, 
Bad  her  from  womankind  to  keepe  him  well, 
For  of  a  woman  he  should  have  much  ill; 
A  virgin  straunge  and  stout  him  should  dismay  or  kill. 

Book  III— Canto  IV  387 

xxvi.  Forthy  she  gave  him  warning  every  day 
The  love  of  women  not  to  entertaine; 
A  lesson  too  too  hard  for  living  clay 
From  love  in  course  of  nature  to  refraine. 
Yet  he  his  mothers  lore  did  well  retaine, 
And  ever  from  fayre  Ladies  love  did  fly; 
Yet  many  Ladies  fayre  did  oft  complaine, 
That  they  for  love  of  him  would  algates  dy: 
Dy,  who  so  list  for  him,  he  was  loves  enimy, 

xxvii.  But  ah!  who  can  deceive  his  destiny, 

Or  weene  by  warning  to  avoyd  his  fate  ? 

That,  when  he  sleepes  in  most  security 

And  safest  seemes,  him  soonest  doth  amate, 

And  findeth  dew  effect  or  soone  or  late; 

So  feeble  is  the  powre  of  fleshly  arme. 

His  mother  bad  him  wemens  love  to  hate, 

For  she  of  womans  force  did  f eare  no  harme ; 

So,  weening  to  have  arm'd  him,  she  did  quite  disarme. 

xxviii.  This  was  that  woman,  this  that  deadly  wownd, 
That  Proteus  prophecide  should  him  dismay; 
The  which  his  mother  vainely  did  expownd 
To  be  hart-wownding  love,  which  should  assay 
To  bring  her  sonne  unto  his  last  decay. 
So  tide  be  the  termes  of  mortall  state, 
And  full  of  subtile  sophismes,  which  doe  play 
With  double  sences,  and  with  false  debate, 
T'  approve  the  unknowen  purpose  of  eternall  fate. 

xxix.  Too  trew  the  famous  Marinell  it  fownd, 

Who,  through  late  triall,  on  that  wealthy  Strond 

Inglorious  now  lies  in  sencelesse  swownd, 

Through  heavy  stroke  of  Britomartis  hond. 

Which  when  his  mother  deare  did  understand, 

And  heavy  tidings  heard,  whereas  she  playd 

Amongst  her  watry  sisters  by  a  pond, 

Gathering  sweete  dafladillyes,  to  have  made 

Gay  girlonds  from  the  Sun  their  f orheads  f ayr  to  shade ; 

xxx.  Eftesoones  both  flowres  and  girlonds  far  away 
Shes  flong,  and  her  faire  deawy  lockes  yrent; 
To  sorrow  huge  she  turnd  her  former  play, 

388  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  gamesom  merth  to  grievous  dreriment: 

Shee  threw  her  selfe  downe  on  the  Continent, 

Ne  word  did  speake,  but  lay  as  in  a  swowne, 

Whiles  all  her  sisters  did  for  her  lament 

With  yelling  outcries,  and  with  shrieking  sowne; 

And  every  one  did  teare  her  girlond  from  her  crowne. 

xxxi.  Soone  as  shee  up  out  of  her  deadly  fitt 

Arose,  shee  bad  her  chare tt  to  be  brought; 
And  all  her  sisters  that  with  her  did  sitt 
Bad  eke  attonce  their  charetts  to  be  sought: 
Tho,  full  of  bitter  griefe  and  pensife  thought, 
She  to  her  wagon  clombe ;  clombe  all  the  rest, 
And  forth  together  went  with  sorrow  fraught. 
The  waves,  obedient  to  theyr  beheast, 
Them  yielded  ready  passage,  and  their  rage  surceast. 

xxxii.  Great  Neptune  stoode  amazed  at  their  sight, 

Whiles  on  his  broad  rownd  backe  they  softly  slid, 
And  eke  him  selfe  mournd  at  their  mournful  plight, 
Yet  wist  not  what  their  wailing  ment;  yet  did, 
For  great  compassion  of  their  sorrow,  bid 
His  mighty  waters  to  them  buxome  bee : 
Eftesoones  the  roaring  billowes  still  abid, 
And  all  the  griesly  Monsters  of  the  See 
Stood  gaping  at  their  gate,  and  wondred  them  to  see. 

xxxiii.  A  teme  of  Dolphins  raunged  in  aray 

Drew  the  smooth  charett  of  sad  Cymoent: 

They  were  all  taught  by  Triton  to  obay 

To  the  long  raynes  at  her  commaundement: 

As  swifte  as  swallowes  on  the  waves  they  went, 

That  their  brode  flaggy  finnes  no  fome  did  reare, 

Ne  bubling  rowndell  they  behinde  them  sent. 

The  rest,  of  other  fishes  drawen  weare, 

Which  with  their  finny  oars  the  swelling  sea  did  sheare. 

xxxiv.  Soone  as  they  bene  arriv'd  upon  the  brim 

Of  the  Rich  Strond,  their  charets  they  forlore, 

And  let  their  temed  fishes  softly  swim 

Along  the  margent  of  the  fomy  shore, 

Least  they  their  finnes  should  bruze,  and  surbate  sore 

Their  tender  feete  upon  the  stony  grownd : 

Book  III— Canto  IV  389 

And  comming  to  the  place,  where  all  in  gore 
And  cruddy  blood  enwallowed  they  fownd 
The  lucklesse  Marinell  lying  in  deadly  swownd, 

xxxv.  His  mother  swowned  thnse,  and  the  third  time 
Could  scarce  recovered  bee  out  of  her  paine : 
Had  she  not  beene  devoide  of  mortall  slime, 
Shee  should  not  then  have  bene  relyv'd  againe; 
But,  soone  as  life  recovered  had  the  raine, 
Shee  made  so  piteous  mone  and  deare  wayment, 
That  the  hard  rocks  could  scarse  from  tears  refraine; 
And  all  her  sister  Nymphes  with  one  consent 
Supplide  her  sobbing  breaches  with  sad  complement. 

xxxvi.  "  Deare  image  of  my  selfe,"  (she  sayd)  "  that  is 
The  wretched  sonne  of  wretched  mother  borne, 
Is  this  thine  high  advauncement?     0!  is  this 
Th'  immortall  name,  with  which  thee,  yet  unborne, 
Thy  Grandsire  Nereus  promist  to  adorne  ? 
Now  lyest  thou  of  life  and  honor  refte; 
Now  lyest  thou  a  lumpe  of  earth  forlorne; 
Ne  of  thy  late  life  memory  is  lefte, 
Ne  can  thy  irrevocable  desteny  bee  wefte. 

xxxvu.  "  Fond  Proteus,  father  of  false  prophecis ! 

And  they  more  fond  that  credit  to  thee  give ! 

Not  this  the  worke  of  womans  hand  ywis, 

That  so  deepe  wound  through  these  deare  members 

I  feared  love ;  but  they  that  love  doe  live, 
But  they  that  dye  doe  nether  love  nor  hate : 
Nath'lesse  to  thee  thy  folly  I  forgive; 
And  to  my  selfe,  and  to  accursed  fate, 
The  guilt  I  doe  ascribe :  deare  wisedom  bought  too  late ! 

xxxvin.  "  O !  what  availes  it  of  immortall  seed 

To  beene  ybredd  and  never  borne  to  dye  ? 

Farre  better  I  it  deeme  to  die  with  speed 

Then  waste  in  woe  and  waylfull  miserye  : 

Who  dyes,  the  utmost  dolor  doth  abye; 

But  who  that  lives  is  lefte  to  waile  his  losse : 

So  life  is  losse,  and  death  felicity  : 

Sad  life  worse  then  glad  death;  and  greater  crosse 

To  see  frends  grave,  then  dead  the  grave  self  to  engrosse. 

39°  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  "  But  if  the  heavens  did  his  dayes  envie, 

And  my  short  blis  maligne,  yet  mote  they  well 
Thus  much  afford  me,  ere  that  he  did  die, 
That  the  dim  eies  of  my  deare  Marinell 
I  mote  have  closed,  and  him  bed  farewell, 
Sith  other  offices  for  mother  meet 

They  would  not  graunt 

Yett,  maulgre  them,  farewell,  my  sweetest  sweet ! 
Farewell,  my  sweetest  sonne,  sith  we  no  more  shall 

XL.  Thus  when  they  all  had  sorowed  their  fill, 
They  softly  gan  to  search  his  griesly  wownd  : 
And,  that  they  might  him  handle  more  at  will, 
They  him  disarmd;  ano,  spredding  on  the  grownd 
Their  watchet  mantles  frindgd  with  silver  rownd, 
They  softly  wipt  away  the  gelly  blood 
From  th'  orifice ;  which  having  well  upbownd, 
They  pourd  in  soveraine  balme  and  Nectar  good, 
Good  both  for  erthly  med'cine  and  for  hevenly  food. 

xli.  Tho  when  the  lilly  handed  Liagore 

(This  Liagore  whilome  had  learned  skill 

In  leaches  craft,  by  great  Apolloes  lore, 

Sith  her  whilome  upon  high  Pindus  hill 

He  loved,  and  at  last  her  wombe  did  fill 

With  hevenly  seed,  whereof  wise  Paeon  sprong) 

Did  feele  his  pulse,  shee  knew  there  staied  still 

Some  litle  life  his  feeble  sprites  emong ; 

Which  to  his  mother  told,  despeyre  she  from  her  flong. 

xlii.  Tho,  up  him  taking  in  their  tender  hands, 
They  easely  unto  her  charett  beare : 
Her  teme  at  her  commaundement  quiet  stands, 
Whiles  they  the  corse  into  her  wagon  reare, 
And  strowe  with  flowres  the  lamentable  beare. 
Then  all  the  rest  into  their  coches  clim, 
And  through  the  brackish  waves  their  passage  sheare; 
Upon  great  Neptunes  necke  they  softly  swim, 
And  to  her  watry  chamber  swiftly  carry  him. 

xliii.  Deepe  in  the  bottome  of  the  sea  her  bowre 
Is  built  of  hollow  billowes  heaped  hye, 

Book  III— Canto  IV  391 

Like  to  thicke  clouds  that  threat  a  stormy  showre, 

And  vauted  all  within,  like  to  the  Skye, 

In  which  the  Gods  doe  dwell  eternally ; 

There  they  him  laide  in  easy  couch  well  dight, 

And  sent  in  haste  for  Tryphon,  to  apply 

Salves  to  his  wounds,  and  medicines  of  might; 

For  Tryphon  of  sea  gods  the  soveraine  leach  is  hight. 

xliv.  The  whiles  the  Nymphes  sitt  all  about  him  rownd, 
Lamenting  his  mishap  and  heavy  plight; 
And  ofte  his  mother,  vewing  his  wide  wownd, 
Cursed  the  hand  that  did  so  deadly  smight 
Her  dearest  sonne,  her  dearest  harts  delight: 
But  none  of  all  those  curses  overtooke 
The  warlike  Maide,  th'  ensample  of  that  might; 
But  fairely  well  shee  thryvd,  and  well  did  brooke 
Her  noble  deeds,  ne  her  right  course  for  ought  forsooke. 

xlv.  Yet  did  false  Archimage  her  still  pursew, 
To  bring  to  passe  his  mischievous  intent, 
Now  that  he  had  her  singled  from  the  crew 
Of  courteous  knights,  the  Prince  and  Faery  gent, 
Whom  late  in  chace  of  beauty  excellent 
Shee  lefte,  pursewing  that  same  foster  strong, 
Of  whose  fowle  outrage  they  impatient, 
And  full  of  firy  zele,  him  followed  long, 
To  reskew  her  from  shame,  and  to  revenge  her  wrong. 

xl vi.  Through    thick   and    thin,    through   mountains   and 
through  playns, 
Those  two  great  champions  did  attonce  pursew 
The  fearefull  damzell  with  incessant  payns; 
Who  from  them  fled,  as  light-foot  hare  from  vew 
Of  hunter  swifte  and  scent  of  howndes  trew. 
At  last  they  came  unto  a  double  way; 
Where,  doubtfull  which  to  take,  her  to  reskew, 
Themselves  they  did  dispart,  each  to  assay 
Whether  more  happy  were  to  win  so  goodly  prav. 

xlvii.  But  Timias,  the  Princes  gentle  Squyre, 
That  Ladies  love  unto  his  Lord  forlent, 
And  with  proud  envy  and  indignant  yre 
After  that  wicked  foster  fiercely  went: 

392  The  Faerie  Queene 

So  beene  they  three  three  sondry  wayes  ybent; 
But  fayrest  fortune  to  the  Prince  befell, 
Whose  chaunce  it  was,  that  sonne  he  did  repent; 
To  take  that  way  in  which  that  Damozell 
Was  fledd  afore,  affraid  of  him  as  feend  of  hell. 

xl viii.  At  last  of  her  far  off  he  gained  vew. 

Then  gan  he  freshly  pricke  his  fomy  steed, 

And  ever  as  he  nigher  to  her  drew, 

So  evermore  he  did  increase  his  speed, 

And  of  each  turning  still  kept  wary  heed : 

Alowd  to  her  he  oftentimes  did  call, 

To  doe  away  vaine  doubt  and  needlesse  dreed : 

Full  myld  to  her  he  spake,  and  oft  let  fall 

Many  meeke  wordes  to  stay  and  comfort  her  withall. 

xlix.  But  nothing  might  relent  her  hasty  flight, 

So  deepe  the  deadly  feare  of  that  foule  swaine 

Was  earst  impressed  in  her  gentle  spright. 

Like  as  a  fearefull  Dove,  which  through  the  raine 

Of  the  wide  ayre  her  way  does  cut  amaine, 

Having  farre  off  espyde  a  Tassell  gent, 

Which  after  her  his  nimble  winges  doth  straine, 

Doubleth  her  hast  for  feare  to  bee  for-hent, 

And  with  her  pineons  cleaves  the  liquid  firmament. 

L.  With  no  lesse  hast,  and  eke  with  no  lesse  dreed, 
That  fearefull  Ladie  fledd  from  him,  that  ment 
To  her  no  evill  thought  nor  evill  deed; 
Yet  former  feare  of  being  fowly  shent 
Carried  her  forward  with  her  first  intent: 
And  though,  oft  looking  backward,  well  she  vewde 
Her  selfe  freed  from  that  foster  insolent, 
And  that  it  was  a  knight  which  now  her  sewde, 
Yet  she  no  lesse  the  knight  feard  then  that  villein  rude. 

Li.  His  uncouth  shield  and  straunge  armes  her  dismayd, 
Whose  like  in  Faery  lond  were  seldom  seene, 
That  fast  she  from  him  fledd,  no  lesse  afrayd 
Then  of  wilde  beastes  if  she  had  chased  beene: 
Yet  he  her  followd  still  with  corage  keene 
So  long,  that  now  the  golden  Hesperus 
Was  mounted  high  in  top  of  heaven  sheene, 

Book  III— Canto  IV  39 

And  warnd  his  other  brethren  joyeous 

To  light  their  blessed  lamps  in  Joves  eternall  hous. 

lii.  All  suddeinly  dim  wox  the  dampish  ayre, 
And  griesly  shadowes  covered  heaven  bright, 
That  now  with  thousand  starres  was  decked  fayre: 
Which  when  the  Prince  beheld,  a  lothfull  sight, 
And  that  perforce,  for  want  of  lenger  light, 
He  mote  surceasse  his  suit,  and  lose  the  hope 
Of  his  long  labour,  he  gan  fowly  wyte 
His  wicked  fortune  that  had  turnd  aslope, 
And  cursed  night  that  reft  from  him  so  goodly  scope. 

liii.  Tho,  when  her  wayes  he  could  no  more  descry, 
But  to  and  fro  at  disaventure  strayd; 
Like  as  a  ship,  whose  Lodestar  suddeinly 
Covered  with  cloudes  her  Pilott  hath  dismayd; 
His  wearisome  pursuit  perforce  he  stayd, 
And  from  his  ioftie  steed  dismounting  low 
Did  let  him  forage.     Downe  himselfe  he  layd 
Upon  the  grassy  ground  to  sleepe  a  throw: 
The  cold  earth  was  his  couch,  the  hard  Steele  his  pillow. 

liv.  But  gentle  Sleepe  envyde  him  any  rest: 
In  stead  thereof  sad  sorow  and  disdaine 
Of  his  hard  hap  did  vexe  his  noble  brest, 
And  thousand  Fancies  bett  his  ydle  brayne 
With  their  light  wings,  the  sights  of  semblants  vaine. 
Oft  did  he  wish  that  Lady  faire  mote  bee 
His  Faery  Queene,  for  whom  he  did  complaine, 
Or  that  his  Faery  Queene  were  such  as  shee; 
And  ever  hasty  Night  he  blamed  bitterlie. 

lv.  "  Night !  thou  foule  Mother  of  annoyaunce  sad, 
Sister  of  heavie  death,  and  nourse  of  woe, 
Which  wast  begot  in  heaven,  but  for  thy  bad 
And  brutish  shape  thrust  downe  to  hell  below, 
Where,  by  the  grim  floud  of  Cocytus  slow, 
Thy  dwelling  is  in  Herebus  black  hous, 
(Black  Herebus,  thy  husband,  is  the  foe 
Of  all  the  Gods,)  where  thou  ungratious 
Halfe  of  thy  dayes  doest  lead  in  horrour  hideous. 

394  The  Faerie  Queene 

lvi.  "  What  had  th'  eternall  Maker  need  of  thee 
The  world  in  his  continuall  course  to  keepe, 
That  doest  all  thinges  deface,  ne  lettest  see 
The  beautie  of  his  worke  ?     Indeed,  in  sleepe 
The  slouthfull  body  that  doth  love  to  steepe 
His  lustlesse  limbes,  and  drowne  his  baser  mind, 
Doth  praise  thee  oft,  and  oft  from  Stygian  deepe 
Calles  thee  his  goddesse,  in  his  errour  blind, 
And  great  Dame  Natures  handmaide  chearing  every 

lvii.  "  But  well  I  wote,  that  to  an  heavy  hart 

Thou  art  the  roote  and  nourse  of  bitter  cares, 
Breeder  of  new,  renewer  of  old  smarts : 
Instead  of  rest  thou  lendest  rayling  teares  ; 
Instead  of  sleepe  thou  sendest  troublous  feares 
And  dreadfull  visions,  in  the  which  alive 
The  dreary  image  of  sad  death  appeares : 
So  from  the  wearie  spirit  thou  doest  drive 
Desired  rest,  and  men  of  happinesse  deprive. 

lviii.  "  Under  thy  mantle  black  there  hidden  lye 
Light-shonning  thefte,  and  traiterous  intent, 
Abhorred  bloodshed,  and  vile  felony, 
Shamefull  deceipt,  and  daunger  imminent, 
Fowle  horror,  and  eke  hellish  dreriment: 
All  these,  I  wote,  in  thy  protection  bee, 
And  light  doe  shonne  for  feare  of  being  shent; 
For  light  ylike  is  loth'd  of  them  and  thee ; 
And  all  that  lewdnesse  love  doe  hate  the  light  to  see. 

lix.  "  For  day  discovers  all  dishonest  wayes, 
And  sheweth  each  thing  as  it  is  in  deed : 
The  prayses  of  high  God  he  faire  display es, 
And  his  large  bountie  rightly  doth  areed : 
Dayes  dearest  children  be  the  blessed  seed 
Which  darknesse  shall  subdue  and  heaven  win: 
Truth  is  his  daughter;  he  her  first  did  breed 
Most  sacred  virgin  without  spot  of  sinne. 
Our  life  is  day,  but  death  with  darknesse  doth  begin. 

LX,  "  0 !  when  will  day  then  turne  to  me  againe, 
And  bring  with  him  his  long  expected  light  ? 

Book  III— Canto  IV  395 

0  Titan !  hast  to  reare  thy  joyous  waine; 

Speed  thee  to  spred  abroad  thy  beames  bright, 

And  chace  away  this  too  long  lingring  night; 

Chace  her  away,  from  whence  she  came,  to  hell: 

She,  she  it  is,  that  hath  me  done  despight: 

There  let  her  with  the  damned  spirits  dwell, 

And  yield  her  rowme  to  day  that  can  it  governe  well.,, 

lxi.  Thus  did  the  Prince  that  wearie  night  outweare 
In  restlesse  anguish  and  unquiet  paine; 
And  earely,  ere  the  morrow  did  upreare 
His  deawy  head  out  of  the  Ocean  maine, 
He  up  arose,  as  halfe  in  great  disdaine, 
And  clombe  unto  his  steed.     So  forth  he  went 
With  heavy  look  and  lumpish  pace,  that  plaine 
In  him  bewraid  great  grudge  and  maltalent : 
His  steed  eke  seemd  t'  apply  his  steps  to  his  intent. 


The  Faerie  Queene 


Prince  Arthur  heares  of  Florimell: 
Three  fosters  Timias  wound; 
Belphebe  findes  him  almost  dead, 
And  reareth  out  of  sownd. 

I.  Wonder  it  is  to  see  in  diverse  mindes 
How  diversly  love  doth  his  pageaunts  play, 
And  shewes  his  powre  in  variable  kindes : 
The  baser  wit,  whose  ydle  thoughts  alway 
Are  wont  to  cleave  unto  the  lowly  clay, 
It  stirreth  up  to  sensuall  desire, 
And  in  lewd  slouth  to  wast  his  carelesse  day; 
But  in  brave  sprite  it  kindles  goodly  fire, 
That  to  all  high  desert  and  honour  doth  aspire. 

II.  Ne  sufTereth  it  uncomely  idlenesse 

In  his  free  thought  to  build  her  sluggish  nest, 

Ne  suffereth  it  thought  of  ungentlenesse 

Ever  to  creepe  into  his  noble  brest; 

But  to  the  highest  and  the  worthiest 

Lifteth  it  up  that  els  would  lowly  fall: 

It  lettes  not  fall,  it  lettes  it  not  to  rest; 

It  lettes  not  scarse  this  Prince  to  breath  at  all, 

But  to  his  first  poursuit  him  forward  still  doth  call. 

in.  Who  long  time  wandred  through  the  forest  wyde 
To  finde  some  issue  thence;  till  that  at  last 
He  met  a  Dwarfe  that  seemed  terrifyde 
With  some  late  perill  which  he  hardly  past, 
Or  other  accident  which  him  aghast; 
Of  whom  he  asked,  whence  he  lately  came, 
And  whither  now  he  traveiled  so  fast? 
For  sore  he  swat,  and,  ronning  through  that  same 
Thicke  forest,  was  bescracht  and  both  his  feet  nigh  lame. 

IV.  Panting  for  breath,  and  almost  out  of  hart, 
The  Dwarfe  him  answerd;   "  Sir,  ill  mote  I  stay 
To  tell  the  same :   I  lately  did  depart 

Rook  III — Canto  V  397 

From  Faery  court,  where  I  have  many  a  day 

Served  a  gentle  Lady  of  great  sway 

And  high  accompt  through  out  all  Elfin  land, 

Who  lately  left  the  same,  and  tooke  this  way. 

Her  now  I  seeke;  and  if  ye  understand 

Which  way  she  fared  hath,  good  Sir,  tell  out  of  hand." 

v.  "  What  mister  wight,"  (saide  he)  "  and  how  arayd?  " 
"  Royally  clad  "  (quoth  he)  "  in  cloth  of  gold, 
As  meetest  may  beseeme  a  noble  mayd : 
Her  faire  lockes  in  rich  circlet  be  enrold, 
A  fayrer  wight  did  never  Sunne  behold  ; 
And  on  a  Palfrey  rydes  more  white  then  snow, 
Yet  she  her  selfe  is  whiter  manifold. 
The  surest  signe,  whereby  ye  may  her  know, 
Is  that  she  is  the  fairest  wight  alive,  I  trow." 

vi.  "  Now  certes,  swaine,"  (saide  he)  "  such  one,  I  weene, 
Fast  flying  through  this  forest  from  her  fo, 
A  foule  ill-favoured  foster,  I  have  seene: 
Her  selfe,  well  as  I  might,  I  reskewd  tho, 
But  could  not  stay,  so  fast  she  did  foregoe, 
Carried  away  with  wings  of  speedy  feare." 
"  Ah,  dearest  God!  "  (quoth  he)  "  that  is  great  woe, 
And  wondrous  ruth  to  all  that  shall  it  heare  : 
But  can  ye  read,  Sir,  how  I  may  her  finde,  or  where  ?  " 

vii.  "  Perdy,  me  lever  were  to  weeten  that," 

(Saide  he)  "  then  ransome  of  the  richest  knight, 

Or  all  the  good  that  ever  yet  I  gat : 

But  froward  fortune,  and  too  forward  Night, 

Such  happinesse  did,  maulgre,  to  me  spight, 

And  fro  me  reft  both  life  and  light  attone. 

But,  Dwarfe,  aread  what  is  that  Lady  bright 

That  through  this  forest  wandreth  thus  alone  ? 

For  of  her  errour  straunge  I  have  great  ruth  and  mone." 

viii.  "  That  Ladie  is,"  (quoth  he)  "  where  so  she  bee, 
The  bountiest  virgin  and  most  debonaire 
That  ever  living  eye,  I  weene,  did  see. 
Lives  none  this  day  that  may  with  her  compare 
In  stedfast  chastitie  and  vertue  rare, 
The  goodly  ornaments  of  beau  tie  bright; 

398  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  is  ycleped  Florimell  the  fayre, 

Faire  Florimell  belov'd  of  many  a  knight, 

Yet  she  loves  none  but  one,  that  Marinell  is  hight. 

ix.  "  A  Sea-nymphes  sonne,  that  Marinell  is  hight, 
Of  my  deare  Dame  is  loved  dearely  well  : 
In  other  none,  but  him,  she  sets  delight; 
All  her  delight  is  set  on  Marinell, 
But  he  sets  nought  at  all  by  Florimell; 
For  Ladies  love  his  mother  long  ygoe 
Did  him,  they  say,  forwarne  through  sacred  spell: 
But  fame  now  flies,  that  of  a  forreine  foe 
He  is  yslaine,  which  is  the  ground  of  all  our  woe. 

x.  "  Five  daies  there  be  since  he  (they  say)  was  slaine, 
And  fowre  since  Florimell  the  Court  forwent, 
And  vowed  never  to  returne  againe, 
Till  him  alive  or  dead  she  did  invent. 
Therefore,  faire  Sir,  for  love  of  knighthood  gent, 
And  honour  of  trew  Ladies,  if  ye  may 
By  your  good  counsell,  or  bold  hardiment, 
Or  succour  her,  or  me  direct  the  way, 
Do  one  or  other  good,  I  you  most  humbly  pray. 

XI.  "So  may  ye  game  to  you  full  great  renowme 
Of  all  good  Ladies  through  the  worlde  so  wide, 
And  haply  in  her  hart  finde  highest  rowme 
Of  whom  ye  seeke  to  be  most  magnifide; 
At  least  eternall  meede  shall  you  abide." 
To  whom  the  Prince:  "  Dwarf e,  comfort  to  thee  take, 
For,  till  thou  tidings  learne  what  her  betide, 
I  here  avow  thee  never  to  forsake. 
Ill  weares  he  armes,  that  nill  them  use  for  Ladies  sake." 

xn.  So  with  the  Dwarfe  he  back  retourn'd  againe, 
To  seeke  his  Lady  where  he  mote  her  finde; 
But  by  the  way  he  greatly  gan  complaine 
The  want  of  his  good  Squire  late  lefte  behinde, 
For  whom  he  wondrous  pensive  grew  in  minde, 
For  doubt  of  daunger  which  mote  him  betide; 
For  him  he  loved  above  all  mankinde, 
Having  him  trew  and  faithfull  ever  tride, 
And  bold,  as  ever  Squyre  that  waited  by  knights  side : 

Book  III — Canto  V  399 

xiir.  Who  all  this  while  full  hardly  was  assayd 
Of  deadly  daunger,  which  to  him  betidd ; 
For,  whiles  his  Lord  pursewd  that  noble  Mayd, 
After  that  foster  fowle  he  fiercely  ridd 
To  bene  avenged  of  the  shame  he  did 
To  that  faire  Damzell :  Him  he  chaced  long 
Through  the  thicke  woods  wherein  he  would  have  hid 
His  shamefull  head  from  his  avengement  strong, 
And  oft  him  threatned  death  for  his  outrageous  wrong. 

xiv.  Nathlesse  the  villein  sped  himselfe  so  well, 

Whether  through  swiftnesse  of  his  speedie  beast, 

Or  knowledge  of  those  woods  where  he  did  dwell, 

That  shortly  he  from  daunger  was  releast, 

And  out  of  sight  escaped  at  the  least: 

Yet  not  escaped  from  the  dew  reward 

Of  his  bad  deedes,  which  daily  he  increast, 

Ne  ceased  not,  till  him  oppressed  hard 

The  heavie  plague  that  for  such  leachours  is  prepard. 

xv.  For  soone  as  he  was  vanisht  out  of  sight, 
His  coward  courage  gan  emboldned  bee, 
And  cast  t'  avenge  him  of  that  fowle  despight 
Which  he  had  borne  of  his  bold  enimee : 
Tho  to  his  brethren  came,  for  they  were  three 
Ungratious  children  of  one  gracelesse  syre, 
And  unto  them  complayned  how  that  he 
Had  used  beene  of  that  foolehardie  Squyre: 
So  them  with  bitter  words  he  stird  to  bloodie  yre. 

xvi.  Forthwith  themselves  with  their  sad  instruments 
Of  spoyle  and  murder  they  gan  arme  bylive, 
And  with  him  foorth  into  the  forest  went 
To  wreake  the  wrath,  which  he  did  earst  revive 
In  their  sterne  brests,  on  him  which  late  did  drive 
Their  brother  to  reproch  and  shamefull  flight; 
For  they  had  vow'd  that  never  he  alive 
Out  of  that  forest  should  escape  their  might : 
Vile  rancour  their  rude  harts  had  flld  with  such  despight. 

xvii.  Within  that  wood  there  was  a  covert  glade, 
Foreby  a  narrow  foord,  to  them  well  knowne, 
Through  which  it  was  uneath  for  wight  to  wade ; 

4-00  The  Faerie  Queene 

And  now  by  fortune  it  was  overflowne. 

By  that  same  way  they  knew  that  Squyre  unknowne 

Mote  algates  passe:  forthy  themselves  they  set 

There  in  await  with  thicke  woods  overgrowne, 

And  all  the  while  their  malice  they  did  whet 

With  cruell  threats  his  passage  through  the  ford  to  let. 

xviii.  It  fortuned,  as  they  devised  had : 

The  gentle  Squyre  came  ryding  that  same  way, 
Unweeting  of  their  wile  and  treason  bad, 
And  through  the  ford  to  passen  did  assay ; 
But  that  fierce  foster,  which  late  fled  away, 
Stoutly  foorth  stepping  on  the  further  shore, 
Him  boldly  bad  his  passage  there  to  stay, 
Till  he  had  made  amends,  and  full  restore 
For  all  the  damage  which  he  had  him  doen  afore. 

xix.  With  that  at  him  a  quiv'ring  dart  he  threw, 
With  so  fell  force,  and  villeinous  despite, 
That  through  his  haberjeon  the  forkehead  flew, 
And  through  the  linked  mayles  empierced  quite, 
But  had  no  powre  in  his  soft  flesh  to  bite. 
That  stroke  the  hardy  Squire  did  sore  displease, 
But  more  that  him  he  could  not  come  to  smite; 
For  by  no  meanes  the  high  banke  he  could  sease, 
But  labour'd  long  in.  that  deepe  ford  with  vaine  disease, 

xx.  And  still  the  foster  with  his  long  bore-speare 
Him  kept  from  landing  at  his  wished  will. 
Anone  one  sent  out  of  the  thicket  neare 
A  cruell  shaft,  headed  with  deadly  ill, 
And  f ethered  with  an  unlucky  quill : 
The  wicked  Steele  stayd  not  till  it  did  light 
In  his  left  thigh,  and  deepely  did  it  thrill : 
Exceeding  griefe  that  wound  in  him  empight, 
But  more  that  with  his  foes  he  could  not  come  to  fight. 

xxi.  At  last,  through  wrath  and  vengeaunce  making  way, 
He  on  the  bancke  arryvd  with  mickle  payne, 
Where  the  third  brother  him  did  sore  assay, 
And  drove  at  him  with  all  his  might  and  mayne 
A  forest-bill,  which  both  his  hands  did  strayne; 
But  warily  he  did  avoide  the  blow, 

Book  III — Canto  V  401 

And  with  his  speare  requited  him  againe, 

That  both  his  sides  were  thrilled  with  the  throw, 

And  a  large  streame  of  blood  out  of  the  wound  did  flow. 

xxii.  He,  tombling  downe,  with  gnashing  teeth  did  bite 
The  bitter  earth,  and  bad  to  lett  him  in 
Into  the  balefull  house  of  endlesse  night, 
Where  wicked  ghosts  doe  waile  their  former  sin. 
Tho  gan  the  battaile  freshly  to  begin; 
For  nathemore  for  that  spectacle  bad 
Did  th'  other  two  their  cruell  vengeaunce  blin, 
But  both  attonce  on  both  sides  him  bestad, 
And  load  upon  him  layd  his  life  for  to  have  had. 

xxiii.  Tho  when  that  villayn  he  aviz'd,  which  late 
Affrighted  had  the  fairest  Florimell, 
Full  of  fiers  fury  and  indignant  hate 
To  him  he  turned,  and  with  rigor  fell 
Smote  him  so  rudely  on  the  Pannikell, 
That  to  the  chin  he  clefte  his  head  in  twaine. 
Downe  on  the  ground  his  carkas  groveling  fell: 
His  sinfull  sowle  with  desperate  disdaine 
Out  of  her  fleshly  ferme  fled  to  the  place  of  paine* 

xxiv.  That  seeing,  now  the  only  last  of  three 

Who  with  that  wicked  shafte  him  wounded  had, 

Trembling  with  horror,  as  that  did  foresee 

The  fearefull  end  of  his  avengement  sad, 

Through  which  he  follow  should  his  brethren  bad, 

His  bootelesse  bow  in  feeble  hand  upcaught, 

And  therewith  shott  an  arrow  at  the  lad ; 

Which,  fayntly  fluttering,  scarce  his  helmet  raught, 

And  glauncing  fel  to  ground,  but  him  annoyed  naught. 

xxv.  With  that  he  would  have  fled  into  the  wood; 
But  Timias  him  lightly  overhent, 
Right  as  he  entring  was  into  the  flood, 
And  strooke  at  him  with  force  so  violent, 
That  headlesse  him  into  the  foord  he  sent: 
The  carcas  with  the  streame  was  carried  downe. 
But  th'  head  fell  backeward  on  the  Continent; 
So  mischief  fel  upon  the  meaners  crowne. 
They  three  be  dead  with  shame,  the  Squire  lives  with 

402  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  He  lives,  but  takes  small  joy  of  his  renowne; 
For  of  that  cruell  wound  he  bled  so  sore, 
That  from  his  steed  he  fell  in  deadly  swowne : 
Yet  still  the  blood  forth  gusht  in  so  great  store, 
That  he  lay  wallowd  all  in  his  owne  gore. 
Now  God  thee  keepe,  thou  gentlest  squire  alive, 
Els  shall  thy  loving  Lord  thee  see  no  more; 
But  both  of  comfort  him  thou  shalt  deprive, 
And  eke  thy  selfe  of  honor  which  thou  didst  atchive. 

xxvii.  Providence  hevenly  passeth  living  thought, 

And  doth  for  wretched  mens  relief e  make  way; 
For  loe !  great  grace  or  fortune  thither  brought 
Comfort  to  him  that  comfortlesse  now  lay. 
In  those  same  woods  ye  well  remember  may 
How  that  a  noble  hunteresse  did  wonne, 
Shee,  that  base  Braggadochio  did  affray, 
And  make  him  fast  out  of  the  forest  ronne ; 
Belphcebe  was  her  name,  as  faire  as  Phcebus  sunne. 

xxviii.  She  on  a  day,  as  shee  purse wd  the  chace 

Of  some  wilde  beast,  which  with  her  arrowes  keene 
She  wounded  had,  the  same  along  did  trace 
By  tract  of  blood,  which  she  had  freshly  seene 
To  have  besprinckled  all  the  grassy  greene: 
By  the  great  persue  which  she  there  perceav'd, 
Well  hoped  shee  the  beast  engor'd  had  beene, 
And  made  more  haste  the  life  to  have  bereav'd; 
But  ah!  her  expectation  greatly  was  deceav'd. 

xxix.  Shortly  she  came  whereas  that  wofull  Squire, 
With  blood  deformed,  lay  in  deadly  swownd ; 
In  whose  faire  eyes,  like  lamps  of  quenched  fire, 
The  Christall  humor  stood  congealed  rownd; 
His  locks,  like  faded  leaves  fallen  to  grownd, 
Knotted  with  blood  in  bounches  rudely  ran; 
And  his  sweete  lips,  on  which  before  that  stownd 
The  bud  of  youth  to  blossome  faire  began, 
Spoild  of  their  rosy  red  were  woxen  pale  and  wan. 

xxx.  Saw  never  living  eie  more  heavy  sight, 

That  could  have  made  a  rocke  of  stone  to  rew, 
Or  rive  in  twaine:  which  when  that  Lady  bright, 

Book  III— Canto  V 


Besides  all  hope,  with  melting  eies  did  vew, 

All  suddeinly  abasht  shee  chaunged  hew, 

And  with  sterne  horror  backward  gan  to  start; 

But  when  shee  better  him  beheld  shee  grew 

Full  of  soft  passion  and  unwonted  smart: 

The  point  of  pity  perced  through  her  tender  hart, 

xxxi.  Meekely  shee  bowed  downe,  to  weete  if  life 
Yett  in  his  frosen  members  did  remaine; 
And,  feeling  by  his  pulses  beating  rife 
That  the  weake  sowle  her  seat  did  yett  retaine, 
She  cast  to  comfort  him  with  busie  paine. 
His  double  folded  necke  she  reard  upright, 
And  rubd  his  temples  and  each  trembling  vaine; 
His  may  led  haberjeon  she  did  undight, 
And  from  his  head  his  heavy  burganet  did  light. 

xxxii.  Into  the  woods  thenceforth  in  haste  shee  went, 
To  seeke  for  hearbes  that  mote  him  remedy; 
For  shee  of  herbes  had  great  intendiment, 
Taught  of  the  Nymphe  which  from  her  infancy 
Her  nourced  had  in  trew  Nobility: 
There,  whether  yt  divine  Tobacco  were, 
Or  Panachaea,  or  Polygony, 
Shee  fownd,  and  brought  it  to  her  patient  deare, 
Who  al  this  while  lay  bleeding  out  his  hartblood  neare. 

xxxiii.  The  soveraine  weede  betwixt  two  marbles  plaine 
Shee  pownded  small,  and  did  in  peeces  bruze; 
And  then  atweene  her  lilly  handes  twaine 
Into  his  wound  the  juice  thereof  did  scruze; 
And  round  about,  as  she  could  well  it  uze, 
The  flesh  therewith  shee  suppled  and  did  steepe, 
T'  abate  all  spasme,  and  soke  the  swelling  bruze; 
And,  after  having  searcht  the  intuse  deepe, 
She  with  her  scarf  did  bind  the  wound  from  cold  to 

xxxiv.  By  this  he  had  sweet  life  recur'd  agayne, 
And,  groning  inly  deepe,  at  last  his  eies, 
His  watry  eies  drizling  like  deawy  rayne, 
He  up  gan  lifte  toward  the  azure  skies, 
From  whence  descend  all  hopelesse  remedies: 
Therewith  he  sigh'd;  and,  turning  him  aside, 

404  The  Faerie  Queene 

The  goodly  Maide,  ful  of  divinities 

And  gifts  of  heavenly  grace,  he  by  him  spide, 

Her  bow  and  gilden  quiver  lying  him  beside. 

xxxv.  "  Mercy,  deare  Lord!  "  (said  he)  "  what  grace  is  this 
That  thou  hast  shewed  to  me  sinfull  wight, 
To  send  thine  Angell  from  her  bowre  of  blis 
To  comfort  me  in  my  distressed  plight. 
Angell,  or  Goddesse  doe  I  call  thee  right? 
What  service  may  I  doe  unto  thee  meete, 
That  hast  from  darkenes  me  returnd  to  light, 
And  with  thy  hevenly  salves  and  med'cines  sweete 
Hast  drest  my  sinfull  wounds?     I  kisse  thy  blessed 

xxxvi.  Thereat  she  blushing  said;  "  Ah!  gentle  Squire, 
Nor  Goddesse  I,  nor  Angell;  but  the  Mayd 
And  daughter  of  a  woody  Nymphe,  desire 
No  service  but  thy  safety  and  ayd ; 
Which  if  thou  gaine,  I  shal  be  well  apayd. 
Wee  mortall  wights,  whose  lives  and  fortunes  bee 
To  commun  accidents  stil  open  layd, 
Are  bownd  with  commun  bond  of  frailtee, 
To  succor  wretched  wights  whom  we  captived  see." 

xxxvii.  By  this  her  Damzells,  which  the  former  chace 
Had  undertaken  after  her,  arryv'd, 
As  did  Belphcebe,  in  the  bloody  place, 
And  thereby  deemd  the  beast  had  bene  depriv'd 
Of  life,  whom  late  their  ladies  arrow  ryv'd: 
Forthy  the  bloody  tract  they  followd  fast, 
And  every  one  to  ronne  the  swiftest  stryv'd; 
But  two  of  them  the  rest  far  overpast, 
And  where  their  Lady  was  arrived  at  the  last* 

xxxviii.  Where  when  they  saw  that  goodly  boy  with  blood 
Defowled,  and  their  Lady  dresse  his  wownd, 
They  wondred  much;  and  shortly  understood 
How  him  in  deadly  cace  theyr  Lady  fownd, 
And  reskewed  out  of  the  heavy  stownd. 
Eftsoones  his  warlike  courser,  which  was  strayd 
Farre  in  the  woodes  whiles  that  he  lay  in  swownd, 
She  made  those  Damzels  search;  which  being  stayd, 
They  did  him  set  thereon,  and  forth  with  them  convayd. 

Book  III — Canto  V  405 

xxxix.  Into  that  forest  farre  they  thence  him  led, 

Where  was  their  dwelling,  in  a  pleasant  glade 

With  mountaines  rownd  about  environed, 

And  mightie  woodes  which  did  the  valley  shade 

And  like  a  stately  Theatre  it  made, 

Spreading  it  selfe  into  a  spatious  plainer 

And  in  the  midst  a  little  river  plaide 

Emongst  the  pumy  stones,  which  seemd  to  plaine 

With  gentle  murmure  that  his  cours  they  did  restraine. 

XL.  Beside  the  same  a  dainty  place  there  lay, 
Planted  with  mirtle  trees  and  laurells  greene, 
In  which  the  birds  song  many  a  lovely  lay 
Of  Gods  high  praise,  and  of  their  loves  sweet  teene, 
As  it  an  earthly  Paradize  had  beene : 
In  whose  enclosed  shadow  there  was  pight 
A  faire  Pavilion,  scarcely  to  bee  seene, 
The  which  was  al  within  most  richly  dight, 
That  greatest  Princes  liking  it  mote  well  delight. 

xli.  Thither  they  brought  that  wounded  Squyre,  and  layd 
In  easie  couch  his  feeble  limbes  to  rest. 
He  rested  him  awhile ;  and  then  the  Mayd 
His  readie  wound  with  better  salves  new  drest: 
Daily  she  dressed  him,  and  did  the  best 
His  grievous  hurt  to  guarish,  that  she  might; 
That  shortly  she  his  dolour  hath  redrest, 
And  his  foule  sore  reduced  to  faire  plight: 
It  she  reduced,  but  himselfe  destroyed  quight* 

xlii.  0  foolish  physick,  and  unfruitfull  paine, 

That  heales  up  one,  and  makes  another  wound ! 
She  his  hurt  thigh  to  him  recurd  againe, 
But  hurt  his  hart,  the  which  before  was  sound, 
Through  an  unwary  dart,  which  did  rebownd 
From  her  faire  eyes  and  gratious  countenaunce. 
What  bootes  it  him  from  death  to  be  unbownd, 
To  be  captived  in  endlesse  duraunce 
Of  sorrow  and  despeyre  without  aleggeaunce ! 

xliii.  Still  as  his  wound  did  gather,  and  grow  hole, 
So  still  his  hart  woxe  sore,  and  health  decayd : 
Madnesse  to  save  a  part,  and  lose  the  whole ! 

406  The  Faerie  Queene 

Still  whenas  he  beheld  the  heavenly  Mayd, 
Whiles  dayly  playsters  to  his  wownd  she  layd, 
So  still  his  Malady  the  more  increast, 
The  whiles  her  matchlesse  beautie  him  dismayd* 
Ah  God !  what  other  could  he  do  at  least, 
But  love  so  fayre  a  Lady  that  his  life  releast? 

xliv.  Long  while  he  strove  in  his  corageous  brest 
With  reason  dew  the  passion  to  subdew, 
And  love  for  to  dislodge  out  of  his  nest: 
Still  when  her  excellencies  he  did  vew, 
Her  soveraine  bountie  and  celestiall  hew, 
The  same  to  love  he  strongly  was  constraynd; 
But  when  his  meane  estate  he  did  revew, 
He  from  such  hardy  boldnesse  was  restraynd, 
And  of  his  lucklesse  lott  and  cruell  love  thus  playnd : 

xlv.  "  Unthankfull  wretch/'  (said  he)  "  is  this  the  meed, 
With  which  her  soverain  mercy  thou  doest  quight? 
Thy  life  she  saved  by  her  gratious  deed ; 
But  thou  doest  weene  with  villemous  despight 
To  blott  her  honour,  and  her  heavenly  light. 
Dye  rather,  dye,  then  so  disloyally 
Deeme  of  her  high  desert,  or  seeme  so  light: 
Fayre  death  it  is,  to  shonne  more  shame,  to  dy: 
Dye  rather,  dy,  then  ever  love  disloyally, 

xlvi.  "  But  if  to  love  disloyalty  it  bee, 

Shall  I  then  hate  her  that  from  deathes  dore 
Me  brought  ?  ah,  f arre  be  such  reproch  fro  mee ! 
What  can  I  lesse  doe  then  her  love  therefore, 
Sith  I  her  dew  reward  cannot  restore  ? 
Dye  rather,  dye,  and  dying  doe  her  serve ; 
Dying  her  serve,  and  living  her  adore  ; 
Thy  fife  she  gave,  thy  life  she  doth  deserve: 
Dye  rather,  dye,  then  ever  from  her  service  swerve. 

xlvii.  "  But,  foolish  boy,  what  bootes  thy  service  bace 
To  her  to  whom  the  hevens  doe  serve  and  sew  ? 
Thou,  a  meane  Squyre  of  meeke  and  lowly  place; 
She,  hevenly  borne  and  of  celestiall  hew. 
How  then?  of  all  love  taketh  equall  vew; 
And  doth  not  highest  God  vouchsafe  to  take 

Book  III— Canto  V 


The  love  and  service  of  the  basest  crew  ? 
If  she  will  not,  dye  meekly  for  her  sake : 
Dye  rather,  dye,  then  ever  so  faire  love  forsake !  " 

xlviii.  Thus  warreid  he  long  time  against  his  will; 

Till  that  through  weaknesse  he  was  forst  at  last 
To  yield  himselfe  unto  the  mightie  ill, 
Which,  as  a  victour  proud,  gan  ransack  fast 
His  inward  partes,  and  all  his  entrayles  wast, 
That  neither  blood  in  face  nor  life  in  hart 
It  left,  but  both  did  quite  drye  up  and  blast; 
As  percing  levin,  which  the  inner  part 
Of  every  thing  consumes,  and  calcineth  by  art* 

xlix.  Which  seeing  fayre  Belphcebe  gan  to  feare, 

Least  that  his  wound  were  inly  well  not  heald, 

Or  that  the  wicked  Steele  empoysned  were : 

Litle  shee  weend  that  love  he  close  conceald. 

Yet  still  he  wasted,  as  the  snow  congeald 

When  the  bright  sunne  his  beams  theron  doth  beat: 

Yet  never  he  his  hart  to  her  reveald ; 

But  rather  chose  to  dye  for  sorow  great, 

Then  with  dishonorable  termes  her  to  entreat. 

L.  She,  gracious  Lady,  yet  no  paines  did  spare 
To  doe  him  ease,  or  doe  him  remedy. 
Many  Restoratives  of  vertues  rare, 
And  costly  Cordialles  she  did  apply, 
To  mitigate  his  stubborne  malady: 
But  that  sweet  Cordiall,  which  can  restore 
A  love-sick  hart,  she  did  to  him  envy ; 
To  him,  and  to  all  th'  unworthy  world  forlore 
She  did  envy  that  soveraine  salve  in  secret  store 

Li.  That  daintie  Rose,  the  daughter  of  her  Morne, 
More  deare  then  life  she  tendered,  whose  flowre 
The  girlond  of  her  honour  did  adorne : 
Ne  suffred  she  the  Middayes  scorching  powre, 
Ne  the  sharp  Northerne  wind  thereon  to  showre : 
But  lapped  up  her  silken  leaves  most  chayre, 
When  so  the  fro  ward  skye  began  to  lowre ; 
But,  soone  as  calmed  was  the  christall  ayre, 
She  did  it  fayre  dispred  and  let  to  florish  fayre. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

Lil.  Eternall  God,  in  his  almightie  powre, 
To  make  ensample  of  his  heavenly  grace, 
In  Paradize  whylome  did  plant  this  flowre ; 
Whence  he  it  fetcht  out  of  her  native  place, 
And  did  in  stocke  of  earthly  flesh  enrace, 
That  mortall  men  her  glory  should  admyre. 
In  gentle  Ladies  breste  and  bounteous  race 
Of  woman  kind  it  fayrest  Flowre  doth  spyre, 
And  beareth  fruit  of  honour  and  all  chast  desyre* 

liii.  Fayre  ympes  of  beautie,  whose  bright  shining  beames 
Adorne  the  world  with  like  to  heavenly  light, 
And  to  your  willes  both  royalties  and  Reames 
Subdew,  through  conquest  of  your  wondrous  might, 
With  this  fayre  flowre  your  goodly  girlonds  dight 
Of  chastity  and  vertue  virginall, 
That  shall  embellish  more  your  beautie  bright, 
And  crowne  your  heades  with  heavenly  coronall, 
Such  as  the  Angels  weare  before  Gods  tribunall ! 

liv.  To  your  faire  selves  a  faire  ensample  frame 
Of  this  faire  virgin,  this  Belphebe  fayre; 
To  whom,  in  perfect  love  and  spotlesse  fame 
Of  chastitie,  none  living  may  compayre: 
Ne  poysnous  Envy  justly  can  empayre 
The  prayse  of  her  fresh  flowring  Maydenhead; 
Forthy  she  standeth  on  the  highest  stayre 
Of  th'  honorable  stage  of  womanhead, 
That  Ladies  all  may  follow  her  ensample  dead, 

lv.  In  so  great  prayse  of  stedfast  chastity 
Nathlesse  she  was  so  courteous  and  kynde, 
Tempred  with  grace  and  goodly  modesty, 
That  seemed  those  two  vertues  strove  to  fynd 
The  higher  place  in  her  Heroick  mynd  : 
So  striving  each  did  other  more  augment, 
And  both  encreast  the  prayse  of  woman  kynde, 
And  both  encreast  her  beautie  excellent: 
So  all  did  make  in  her  a  perfect  complement. 

Book  III — Canto  VI  409 


The  birth  of  fayre  Belphoebe  and 
Of  Amorett  is  told: 
The  Gardins  of  Adonis  fraught 
With  pleasures  manifold. 

I.  Well  may  I  weene,  faire  Ladies,  all  this  while 
Ye  wonder  how  this  noble  Damozell 
So  great  perfections  did  in  her  compile, 
Sith  that  in  salvage  forests  she  did  dwell, 
So  farre  from  court  and  royall  Citadell, 
The  great  schoolmaistresse  of  all  courtesy : 
Seemeth  that  such  wilde  woodes  should  far  expell 
All  civile  usage  and  gentility, 
And  gentle  sprite  deforme  with  rude  rusticity. 

11.  But  to  this  faire  Belphcebe  in  her  berth 
The  hevens  so  favorable  were  and  free, 
Looking  with  myld  aspect  upon  the  earth 
In  th'  Horoscope  of  her  nativitee, 
That  all  the  gifts  of  grace  and  chastitee 
On  her  they  poured  forth  of  plenteous  home : 
Jove  laught  on  Venus  from  his  soverayne  see, 
And  Phcebus  with  faire  beames  did  her  adorne, 
And  all  the  Graces  rockt  her  cradle  being  borne. 

in.  Her  berth  was  of  the  wombe  of  Morning  dew, 
And  her  conception  of  the  joyous  Prime; 
And  all  her  whole  creation  did  her  shew 
Pure  and  unspotted  from  all  loathly  crime 
That  is  ingenerate  in  fleshly  slime. 
So  was  this  virgin  borne,  so  was  she  bred ; 
So  was  she  trayned  up  from  time  to  time 
In  all  chaste  vertue  and  true  bounti-hed, 
Till  to  her  dew  perfection  she  were  ripened. 

iv.  Her  mother  was  the  faire  Chrysogonee, 
The  daughter  of  Amphisa,  who  by  race 
A  Faerie  was,  yborne  of  high  degree. 

4  i  o  The  Faerie  Queene 

She  bore  Belphcebe;  she  bore  in  like  cace 

Fayre  Amoretta  in  the  second  place : 

These  two  were  twinnes,  and  twixt  them  two  did  share 

The  heritage  of  all  celestiall  grace ; 

That  all  the  rest  it  seemd  they  robbed  bare 

Of  bounty,  and  of  beautie,  and  all  vertues  rare. 

v.  It  were  a  goodly  storie  to  declare 

By  what  straunge  accident  faire  Chrysogone 
Conceiv'd  these  infants,  and  how  them  she  bare 
In  this  wilde  forrest  wandring  all  alone, 
After  she  had  nine  moneths  fulflld  and  gone : 
For  not  as  other  wemens  commune  brood 
They  were  enwombed  in  the  sacred  throne 
Of  her  chaste  bodie;  nor  with  commune  food, 
As  other  wemens  babes,  they  sucked  vitall  blood : 

vi.  But  wondrously  they  were  begot  and  bred 
Through  influence  of  th'  hevens  fruitfull  ray. 
As  it  in  antique  bookes  is  mentioned. 
It  was  upon  a  Sommers  shinie  day, 
When  Titan  faire  his  beames  did  display, 
In  a  fresh  fountaine,  far  from  all  mens  vew, 
She  bath'd  her  brest  the  boyling  heat  t'  allay ; 
She  bath'd  with  roses  red  and  violets  blew, 
And  all  the  sweetest  flowers  that  in  the  forrest  grew : 

vii.  Till  faint  through  yrksome  wearines,  adowne 
Upon  the  grassy  ground  her  selfe  she  layd 
To  sleepe,  the  whiles  a  gentle  slombring  swowne 
Upon  her  fell,  all  naked  bare  displayd. 
The  sunbeames  bright  upon  her  body  playd, 
Being  through  former  bathing  mollifide, 
And  pierst  into  her  wombe,  where  they  embayd 
With  so  sweete  sence  and  secret  powre  unspide, 
That  in  her  pregnant  flesh  they  shortly  fructifide. 

viii.  Miraculous  may  seeme  to  him  that  reades 
So  straunge  ensample  of  conception; 
But  reason  teacheth  that  the  fruitfull  seades 
Of  all  things  living,  through  impression 
Of  the  sunbeames  in  moyst  complexion, 
Doe  life  conceive  and  quickned  are  by  kynd : 

Book  III— Canto  VI  411 

So,  after  Nilus  inundation, 

Infinite  shapes  of  creatures  men  doe  fynd 

Informed  in  the  mud  on  which  the  Sunne  hath  shynd. 

ix.  Great  father  he  of  generation 

Is  rightly  cald,  th'  authour  of  life  and  light; 

And  his  faire  sister  for  creation 

Ministreth  matter  fit,  which,  tempred  right 

With  heate  and  humour,  breedes  the  living  wight. 

So  sprong  these  twinnes  in  womb  of  Chrysogone; 

Yet  wist  she  nought  thereof,  but  sore  affright, 

Wondred  to  see  her  belly  so  upblone, 

Which  still  increast  till  she  her  terme  had  full  outgone. 

x.  Whereof  conceiving  shame  and  foule  disgrace, 
Albe  her  guiltlesse  conscience  her  cleard, 
She  fled  into  the  wildernesse  a  space, 
Till  that  unweeldy  burden  she  had  reard, 
And  shund  dishonor  which  as  death  she  feard : 
Where,  wearie  of  long  traveill,  downe  to  rest 
Her  selfe  she  set,  and  comfortably  cheard : 
There  a  sad  cloud  of  sleepe  her  overkest, 
And  seized  every  sence  with  sorrow  sore  opprest. 

xi.  It  fortuned,  faire  Venus  having  lost 

Her  little  sonne,  the  winged  god  of  love, 

Who,  for  some  light  displeasure  which  him  crost, 

Was  from  her  fled  as  flit  as  ayery  Dove, 

And  left  her  blisfull  bowre  of  joy  above: 

(So  from  her  often  he  had  fled  away, 

When  she  for  ought  him  sharpely  did  reprove, 

And  wandred  in  the  world  in  straunge  aray, 

Disguiz'd  in  thousand  shapes,  that  none  might  him  bewray.) 

xii.  Him  for  to  seeke,  she  left  her  heavenly  hous, 
The  house  of  goodly  formes  and  faire  aspect, 
Whence  all  the  world  derives  the  glorious 
Features  of  beautie,  and  all  shapes  select, 
With  which  high  God  his  workmanship  hath  deckt; 
And  searched  everie  way  through  which  his  wings 
Had  borne  him,  or  his  tract  she  mote  detect : 
She  promist  kisses  sweet,  and  sweeter  things, 
Unto  the  man  that  of  him  tydings  to  her  brings. 

412  The  Faerie  Queene 

xiii.  First  she  him  sought  in  Court,  where  most  he  us'd 
Whylome  to  haunt,  but  there  she  found  him  not; 
But  many  there  she  found  which  sore  accus'd 
His  falshood,  and  with  fowle  infamous  blot 
His  cruell  deedes  and  wicked  wyles  did  spot: 
Ladies  and  Lordes  she  everywhere  mote  heare 
Complayning,  how  with  his  empoysned  shot 
Their  wofull  harts  he  wounded  had  whyleare 
And  so  had  left  them  languishing  twixt  hope  and  feare. 

xiv.  She  then  the  Cities  sought  from  gate  to  gate, 
And  everie  one  did  aske,  did  he  him  see  ? 
And  everie  one  her  answerd,  that  too  late 
He  had  him  seene,  and  felt  the  crueltee 
Of  his  sharpe  dartes  and  whot  artilleree : 
And  every  one  threw  forth  reproches  rife 
Of  his  mischievous  deedes,  and  sayd  that  hee 
Was  the  disturber  of  all  civill  life, 
The  enimy  of  peace,  and  authour  of  all  strife. 

xv.  Then  in  the  countrey  she  abroad  him  sought, 
And  in  the  rurall  cottages  inquir'd ; 
Where  also  many  plaintes  to  her  were  brought, 
How  he  their  heedelesse  harts  with  love  had  fir'd, 
And  his  false  venim  through  their  veines  inspir'd : 
And  eke  the  gentle  Shepheard  swaynes,  which  sat 
Keeping  their  fleecy  flockes  as  they  were  hyr'd, 
She  sweetly  heard  complaine,  both  how  and  what 
Her  sonne  had  to  them  doen;  yet  she  did  smile  thereat. 

xvi.  But  when  in  none  of  all  these  she  him  got, 
She  gan  avize  where  els  he  mote  him  hyde : 
At  last  she  her  bethought  that  she  had  not 
Yet  sought  the  salvage  woods  and  forests  wyde, 
In  which  full  many  lovely  Nymphes  abyde; 
Mongst  whom  might  be  that  he  did  closely  lye, 
Or  that  the  love  of  some  of  them  him  tyde : 
Forthy  she  thither  cast  her  course  t'  apply, 
To  search  the  secret  haunts  of  Dianes  company. 

xvii.  Shortly  unto  the  wastefull  woods  she  came, 

Whereas  she  found  the  Goddesse  with  her  crew, 
After  late  chace  of  their  embrewed  game, 

Book  III— Canto  VI  413 

Sitting  beside  a  fountaine  in  a  rew; 
Some  of  them  washing  with  the  liquid  dew 
From  off  their  dainty  limbs  the  dusty  sweat 
And  soyle,  which  did  deforme  their  lively  hew; 
Others  lay  shaded  from  the  scorching  heat, 
The  rest  upon  her  person  gave  attendance  great. 

xvim  She,  having  hong  upon  a  bough  on  high 
Her  bow  and  painted  quiver,  had  unlaste 
Her  silver  buskins  from  her  nimble  thigh, 
And  her  lanck  loynes  ungirt,  and  brests  unbraste, 
After  her  heat  the  breathing  cold  to  taste : 
Her  golden  lockes,  that  late  in  tresses  bright 
Embreaded  were  for  hindring  of  her  haste, 
Now  loose  about  her  shoulders  hong  undight, 
And  were  with  sweet  Ambrosia  all  besprinckled  light, 

xix.  Soone  as  she  Venus  saw  behinde  her  backe, 
She  was  asham'd  to  be  so  loose  surpriz'd; 
And  woxe  halfe  wroth  against  her  damzels  slacke, 
That  had  not  her  thereof  before  aviz'd, 
But  sufTred  her  so  carelessly  disguiz'd 
Be  overtaken.     Soone  her  garments  loose 
Upgath'ring,  in  her  bosome  she  compriz'd 
Well  as  she  might,  and  to  the  Goddesse  rose; 
Whiles  all  her  Nymphes  did  like  a  girlond  her  enclose, 

XX.  Goodly  she  gan  faire  Cytherea  greet, 

And  shortly  asked  her,  what  cause  her  brought 

Into  that  wildernesse  for  her  unmeet, 

From  her  sweete  bowres,  and  beds  with  pleasures  fraught  ? 

That  suddein  chaunge  she  straunge  adventure  thought. 

To  whom  halfe  weeping  she  thus  answered; 

That  she  her  dearest  sonne  Cupido  sought, 

Who  in  his  frowardnes  from  her  was  fled, 

That  she  repented  sore  to  have  him  angered. 

xxi.  Thereat  Diana  gan  to  smile,  in  scorne 

Of  her  vaine  playnt,  and  to  her  scoffing  sayd : 
"  Great  pitty  sure  that  ye  be  so  forlorne 
Of  your  gay  sonne,  that  gives  ye  so  good  ayd 
To  your  disports:  ill  mote  ye  bene  apayd." 
But  she  was  more  engrieved,  and  replide; 

414  The  Faerie  Queene 

"  Faire  sister,  ill  beseemes  it  to  upbrayd 

A  dolefull  heart  with  so  disdainf ull  pride : 

The  like  that  mine  may  be  your  paine  another  tide. 

xxii.  "  As  you  in  woods  and  wanton  wildernesse 
Your  glory  sett  to  chace  the  salvage  beasts, 
So  my  delight  is  all  in  joyfulnesse, 
In  beds,  in  bowres,  in  banckets,  and  in  feasts : 
And  ill  becomes  you,  with  your  lofty  creasts, 
To  scorne  the  joy  that  Jove  is  glad  to  seeke: 
We  both  are  bownd  to  follow  heavens  beheasts, 
And  tend  our  charges  with  obeisaunce  meeke. 
Spare,  gentle  sister,  with  reproch  my  paine  to  eeke; 

xxiii.  "  And  tell  me,  if  that  ye  my  sonne  have  heard 
To  lurke  emongst  your  Nimphes  in  secret  wize, 
Or  keepe  their  cabins :  much  I  am  aff eard 
Least  he  like  one  of  them  him  selfe  disguize, 
And  turne  his  arrowes  to  their  exercize. 
So  may  he  long  him  selfe  full  easie  hide; 
For  he  is  faire  and  fresh  in  face  and  guize 
As  any  Nimphe;  (let  not  it  be  envide.") 
So  saying,  every  Nimph  full  narrowly  shee  eide.: 

xxiv.  But  Phcebe  therewith  sore  was  angered, 

And  sharply  saide:  "  Goe,  Dame;  goe,  seeke  your  boy, 

Where  you  him  lately  lef te,  in  Mars  his  bed : 

He  comes  not  here;  we  scorne  his  foolish  joy, 

Ne  lend  we  leisure  to  his  idle  toy: 

But  if  I  catch  him  in  this  company, 

By  Stygian  lake  I  vow,  whose  sad  annoy 

The  Gods  doe  dread,  he  dearly  shall  abye : 

He  clip  his  wanton  wings,  that  he  no  more  shall  Aye." 

xxv.  Whom  whenas  Venus  saw  so  sore  displeasd, 
Shee  inly  sory  was,  and  gan  relent 
What  shee  had  said ;  so  her  she  soone  appeasd 
With  sugred  words  and  gentle  blandishment, 
Which  as  a  fountaine  from  her  sweete  lips  went* 
And  welled  goodly  forth,  that  in  short  space 
She  was  well  pleasd,  and  forth  her  damzells  sent 
Through  all  the  woods,  to  search  from  place  to  place, 
If  any  tract  of  him  or  tidings  they  mote  trace. 

Book  111— Canto  VI 


xxvi.  To  search  the  God  of  love  her  Nimphes  she  sent 
Throughout  the  wandring  forest  every  where: 
And  after  them  her  selfe  eke  with  her  went 
To  seeke  the  fugitive  both  farre  and  nere. 
So  long  they  sought,  till  they  arrived  were 
In  that  same  shady  covert  whereas  lay 
Faire  Crysogone  in  slombry  traunce  whilere; 
Who  in  her  sleepe  (a  wondrous  thing  to  say) 
Unwares  had  borne  two  babes,  as  faire  as  springing  day. 

xxvii.  Unwares  she  them  conceivd,  unwares  she  bore: 
She  bore  withouten  paine,  that  she  conceiv'd 
Withouten  pleasure;  ne  her  need  implore 
Lucinaes  aide:  which  when  they  both  perceiv'd, 
They  were  through  wonder  nigh  of  sence  berev'd, 
And  gazing  each  on  other  nought  bespake. 
At  last  they  both  agreed  her  seeming  griev'd 
Out  of  her  heavie  swowne  not  to  awake 
But  from  her  loving  side  the  tender  babes  to  take. 

xxviii.  Up  they  them  tooke;  each  one  a  babe  uptooke 
And  with  them  carried  to  be  fostered. 
Dame  Phcebe  to  a  Nymphe  her  babe  betooke 
To  be  brought  up  in  perfect  Maydenhed, 
And,  of  her  selfe,  her  name  Belphcebe  red: 
But  Venus  hers  thence  far  away  convayd, 
To  be  upbrought  m  goodly  womanhed; 
And,  in  her  litle  loves  stead,  which  was  strayd, 
Her  Amoretta  cald,  to  comfort  her  dismayd. 

xxix.  Shee  brought  her  to  her  joyous  Paradize, 

Wher  most  she  wonnes  when  she  on  earth  does  dwell; 

So  faire  a  place  as  Nature  can  devize: 

Whether  in  Paphos,  or  Cytheron  hill, 

Or  it  in  Gnidus  bee,  I  wote  not  well; 

But  well  I  wote  by  triall,  that  this  same 

All  other  pleasaunt  places  doth  excell, 

And  called  is  by  her  lost  lovers  name, 

The  Gardin  of  Adonis,  far  renowmd  by  fame. 

xxx.  In  that  same  Gardin  all  the  goodly  flowres, 
W7herewith  dame  Nature  doth  her  beautify, 
And  decks  the  girlonds  of  her  Paramoures, 

41 6  The  Faerie  Queene 

Are  fetcht:  there  is  the  first  seminary 

Of  all  things  that  are  borne  to  live  and  dye, 

According  to  their  kynds.     Long  worke  it  were 

Here  to  account  the  endlesse  progeny 

Of  all  the  weeds  that  bud  and  blossome  there ; 

But  so  much  as  doth  need  must  needs  be  counted  here, 

xxxi.  It  sited  was  in  fruitfull  soyle  of  old, 

And  girt  in  with  two  walls  on  either  side ; 

The  one  of  yron,  the  other  of  bright  gold, 

That  none  might  thorough  breake,  nor  overstride : 

And  double  gates  it  had  which  opened  wide, 

By  which  both  in  and  out  men  moten  pas : 

Th'  one  faire  and  fresh,  the  other  old  and  dride. 

Old  Genius  the  porter  of  them  was, 

Old  Genius,  the  which  a  double  nature  has, 

xxxii.  He  letteth  in,  he  letteth  out  to  wend 
All  that  to  come  into  the  world  desire: 
A  thousand  thousand  naked  babes  attend 
About  him  day  and  night,  which  doe  require 
That  he  with  fleshly  weeds  would  them  attire : 
Such  as  him  list,  such  as  eternall  fate 
Ordained  hath,  he  clothes  with  sinfull  mire, 
And  sendeth  forth  to  live  in  mortall  state, 
Till  they  agayn  returne  backe  by  the  hinder  gate* 

xxxiii.  After  that  they  againe  retourned  beene, 
They  in  that  Gardin  planted  bee  agayne, 
And  grow  afresh,  as  they  had  never  seene 
Fleshly  corruption,  nor  mortall  payne. 
Some  thousand  yeares  so  doen  they  there  remayne, 
And  then  of  him  are  clad  with  other  hew, 
Or  sent  into  the  chaungefull  world  agayne, 
Till  thither  they  retourne  where  first  they  grew: 
So,  like  a  wheele,  arownd  they  ronne  from  old  to  new. 

xxxiv.  Ne  needs  there  Gardiner  to  sett  or  sow, 

To  plant  or  prune ;  for  of  their  owne  accord 
All  things,  as  they  created  were,  doe  grow, 
And  yet  remember  well  the  mighty  word 
Which  first  was  spoken  by  th'  Almighty  Lord, 
That  bad  them  to  increase  and  multiply: 

Book  III— Canto  VI 

Ne  doe  they  need  with  water  of  the  ford, 
Or  of  the  clouds,  to  moysten  their  roots  dry; 
For  in  themselves  eternall  moisture  they  imply. 


xxxv.  Infinite  shapes  of  creatures  there  are  bred, 

And  uncouth  formes,  which  none  yet  ever  knew : 

And  every  sort  is  in  a  sondry  bed 

Sett  by  it  selfe,  and  ranckt  in  comely  rew; 

Some  fitt  for  reasonable  sowles  t'  indew; 

Some  made  for  beasts,  some  made  for  birds  to  weare ; 

And  all  the  fruitfull  spawne  of  fishes  hew 

In  endlesse  rancks  along  enraunged  were, 

That  seemd  the  Ocean  could  not  containe  them  there. 

xxxvi.  Daily  they  grow,  and  daily  forth  are  sent 
Into  the  world,  it  to  replenish  more ; 
Yet  is  the  stocke  not  lessened  nor  spent, 
But  still  remaines  in  everlasting  store, 
As  it  at  first  created  was  of  yore : 
For  in  the  wide  wombe  of  the  world  there  lyes, 
In  hateful  darknes  and  in  deepe  horrore, 
An  huge  eternall  Chaos,  which  supplyes 
The  substaunces  of  natures  fruitful  progenyes. 

xxxvii.  All  things  from  thence  doe  their  first  being  fetch, 
And  borrow  matter  whereof  they  are  made ; 
Which,  whenas  forme  and  feature  it  does  ketch, 
Becomes  a  body,  and  doth  then  invade 
The  state  of  life  out  of  the  griesly  shade. 
That  substaunce  is  eterne,  and  bideth  so ; 
Ne  when  the  life  decayes  and  forme  does  fade, 
Doth  it  consume  and  into  nothing  goe, 
But  chaunged  is,  and  often  altred  to  and  froe, 

xxxviii.  The  substaunce  is  not  chaungd  nor  altered, 
But  th'  only  forme  and  outward  fashion; 
For  every  substaunce  is  conditioned 
To  chaunge  her  hew,  and  sondry  formes  to  don, 
Meet  for  her  temper  and  complexion: 
For  formes  are  variable,  and  decay 
By  course  of  kinde  and  by  occasion; 
And  that  faire  flowre  of  beautie  fades  away, 
As  doth  the  lilly  fresh  before  the  sunny  ray. 

41  8  The  Faerie  Queene 

xxxix.  Great  enimy  to  it,  and  to  all  the  rest 
That  in  the  Gardin  of  Adonis  springs, 
Is  wicked  Tyme ;  who  with  his  scyth  addrest 
Does  mow  the  flowring  herbes  and  goodly  things, 
And  all  their  glory  to  the  ground  downe  flings, 
Where  they  do  wither,  and  are  fowly  mard : 
He  flyes  about,  and  with  his  flaggy  winges 
Beates  downe  both  leaves  and  buds  without  regard, 
Ne  ever  pitty  may  relent  his  malice  hard. 

XL.  Yet  pitty  often  did  the  gods  relent, 

To  see  so  faire  thinges  mard  and  spoiled  quight; 
And  their  great  mother  Venus  did  lament 
The  losse  of  her  deare  brood,  her  deare  delight: 
Her  hart  was  pierst  with  pitty  at  the  sight, 
When  walking  through  the  Gardin  them  she  saw, 
Yet  no'te  she  find  redresse  for  such  despight: 
For  all  that  lives  is  subject  to  that  law; 
All  things  decay  in  time,  and  to  their  end  doe  draw. 

Xil.  But  were  it  not  that  Time  their  troubler  is, 
All  that  in  this  delightfull  Gardin  growes 
Should  happy  bee,  and  have  immortall  blis: 
For  here  all  plenty  and  all  pleasure  fiowes; 
And  sweete  love  gentle  fitts  emongst  them  throwes, 
Without  fell  rancor  or  fond  gealosy. 
Franckly  each  Paramor  his  leman  knowes, 
Each  bird  his  mate ;  ne  any  does  envy 
Their  goodly  meriment  and  gay  felicity, 

XLii.  There  is  continuall  Spring,  and  harvest  there 
Continuall,  both  meeting  at  one  tyme ; 
For  both  the  boughes  doe  laughing  blossoms  beare, 
And  with  fresh  colours  decke  the  wanton  Pryme, 
And  eke  attonce  the  heavy  trees  they  clyme, 
Which  seeme  to  labour  under  their  fruites  lode: 
The  whiles  the  joyous  birdes  make  their  pas  tyme 
Emongst  the  shady  leaves,  their  sweet  abode, 
And  their  trew  loves  without  suspition  tell  abrode, 

XLin.  Right  in  the  middest  of  that  Paradise 

There  stood  a  stately  Mount,  on  whose  round  top 
A  gloomy  grove  of  mirtle  trees  did  rise, 

Book  III— Canto  VI  419 

Whose  shady  boughes  sharp  Steele  did  never  lop, 
Nor  wicked  beastes  their  tender  buds  did  crop, 
But  like  a  girlond  compassed  the  hight; 
And  from  their  fruitfull  sydes  sweet  gum  did  drop, 
That  all  the  ground,  with  pretious  deaw  bedight, 
Threw  forth  most  dainty  odours  and  most  sweet  delight. 

xliv.  And  in  the  thickest  covert  of  that  shade 
There  was  a  pleasaunt  Arber,  not  by  art 
But  of  the  trees  owne  inclination  made, 
Which  knitting  their  rancke  braunches,  part  to  part, 
WTith  wanton  yvie  twine  entrayld  athwart, 
And  Eglantine  and  Caprifole  emong, 
Fashiond  above  within  their  inmost  part, 
That  nether  Phcebus  beams  could  through  them  throng, 
Nor  Aeolus  sharp  blast  could  worke  them  any  wrong. 

xlv.  And  all  about  grew  every  sort  of  flowre, 

To  which  sad  lovers  were  transformde  of  yore; 

Fresh  Hyacinthus,  Phcebus  paramoure 

And  dearest  love ; 

Foolish  Narcisse,  that  likes  the  watry  shore ; 

Sad  Amaranthus,  made  a  flowre  but  late, 

Sad  Amaranthus,  in  whose  purple  gore 

Me  seemes  I  see  Amintas  wretched  fate, 

To  whom  sweete  Poets  verse  hath  given  endlesse  date. 

xlvi.  There  wont  fayre  Venus  often  to  enjoy 
Her  deare  Adonis  joyous  company, 
And  reape  sweet  pleasure  of  the  wanton  boy: 
There  yet,  some  say,  in  secret  he  does  ly, 
Lapped  in  flowres  and  pretious  spycery, 
By  her  hid  from  the  world,  and  from  the  skill 
Of  Stygian  Gods,  which  doe  her  love  envy; 
But  she  her  selfe,  when  ever  that  she  will, 
Possesseth  him,  and  of  his  sweetnesse  takes  her  fill. 

xlvii.  And  sooth,  it  seemes,  they  say;  for  he  may  not 
For  ever  dye,  and  ever  buried  bee 
In  balefull  night,  where  all  thinges  are  forgot: 
All  be  he  subject  to  mortalitie, 
Yet  is  eterne  in  mutabilitie, 
And  by  succession  made  perpetuall, 

420  The  Faerie  Queene 

Transformed  oft,  and  chaunged  diverslie ; 
For  him  the  Father  of  all  formes  they  call: 
Therfore  needs  mote  he  live,  that  living  gives  to  all. 

xlviii.  There  now  he  liveth  in  eternall  blis, 

Joying  his  goddesse,  and  of  her  enjoyd; 

Ne  feareth  he  henceforth  that  foe  of  his, 

Which  with  his  cruell  tuske  him  deadly  cloyd : 

For  that  wilde  Bore,  the  which  him  once  annoyd, 

She  firmely  hath  emprisoned  for  ay, 

That  her  sweet  love  his  malice  mote  avoyd, 

In  a  strong  rocky  Cave,  which  is,  they  say, 

Hewen  underneath  that  Mount,  that  none  him  losen  may, 

xlix.  There  now  he  lives  in  everlasting  joy, 
With  many  of  the  Gods  in  company 
Which  thither  haunt,  and  with  the  winged  boy, 
Sporting  him  selfe  in  safe  felicity: 
Who  when  he  hath  with  spoiles  and  cruelty 
Ransackt  the  world,  and  in  the  wofull  harts 
Of  many  wretches  set  his  triumphes  hye, 
Thither  resortes,  and,  laying  his  sad  dartes 
Asyde,  with  faire  Adonis  playes  his  wanton  partes* 

L.  And  his  trew  love  faire  Psyche  with  him  playes, 
Fayre  Psyche  to  him  lately  reconcyld, 
After  long  troubles  and  unmeet  upbrayes 
With  which  his  mother  Venus  her  revyld, 
And  eke  himself e  her  cruelly  exyld  : 
But  now  in  stedfast  love  and  happy  state 
She  with  him  lives,  and  hath  him  borne  a  chyld, 
Pleasure,  that  doth  both  gods  and  men  aggrate, 
Pleasure,  the  daughter  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  lates 

li.  Hither  great  Venus  brought  this  infant  fayre 
The  yonger  daughter  of  Chrysogonee, 
And  unto  Psyche  with  great  trust  and  care 
Committed  her,  yfostered  to  bee 
And  trained  up  in  trew  feminitee : 
Who  no  lesse  carefully  her  tendered 
Then  her  owne  daughter  Pleasure,  to  whom  shee 
Made  her  companion,  and  her  lessoned 
In  all  the  lore  of  love,  and  goodly  womanhead. 

Book  III— Canto  VI  421 

lii.  In  which  when  she  to  perfect  ripenes  grew, 
Of  grace  and  beautie  noble  Paragone, 
She  brought  her  forth  into  the  worldes  vew, 
To  be  th'  ensample  of  true  love  alone, 
And  Lodestarre  of  all  chaste  affection 
To  all  fayre  Ladies  that  doe  live  on  grownd. 
To  Faery  court  she  came;  where  many  one 
Admyrd  her  goodly  haveour,  and  fownd 
His  feeble  hart  wide  launched  with  loves  cruel  wownd. 

liii.  But  she  to  none  of  them  her  love  did  cast, 
Save  to  the  noble  knight  Sir  Scudamore, 
To  whom  her  loving  hart  she  linked  fast 
In  faithfull  love,  t'  abide  for  evermore; 
And  for  his  dearest  sake  endured  sore 
Sore  trouble  of  an  hainous  enimy, 
Who  her  would  forced  have  to  have  forlore 
Her  former  love  and  stedfast  loialty, 
As  ye  may  elswhere  reade  that  ruefull  history* 

liv.  But  well  I  weene,  ye  first  desire  to  learne 
What  end  unto  that  fearefull  Damozell, 
Which  fledd  so  fast  from  that  same  foster  stearne 
Whom  with  his  brethren  Timias  slew,  befell: 
That  was,  to  weet,  the  goodly  Florimell; 
Who  wandring  for  to  seeke  her  lover  deare, 
Her  lover  deare,  her  dearest  Marinell, 
Into  misfortune  fell,  as  ye  did  heare, 
And  from  Prince  Arthure  fled  with  wings  of  idle  feare. 

422  The  Faerie  Queene 


The  witches  sonne  loves  Florimell: 
She  fives;   he  faines  to  dy. 
Satyrane  saves  the  Squyre  of  Dames 
From  Gyaunts  tyranny. 

I.  Like  as  an  Hynd  forth  singled  from  the  heard, 
That  hath  escaped  from  a  ravenous  beast, 
Yet  flyes  away  of  her  owne  feete  afeard, 
And  every  leafe,  that  shaketh  with  the  least 
Murmure  of  winde,  her  terror  hath  encreast ; 
So  fledd  fayre  Florimell  from  her  vaine  feare, 
Long  after  she  from  perill  was  releast: 
Each  shade  she  saw,  and  each  noyse  she  did  heare, 
Did  seeme  to  be  the  same  which  she  escapt  whileare. 

II.  All  that  same  evening  she  in  flying  spent, 
And  all  that  night  her  course  continewed; 
Ne  did  she  let  dull  sleepe  once  to  relent, 
Nor  wearinesse  to  slack  her  hast,  but  fled 
Ever  alike,  as  if  her  former  dred 
Were  hard  behind,  her  ready  to  arrest ; 
And  her  white  Palfrey,  having  conquered 
The  maistring  raines  out  of  her  weary  wrest, 
Perforce  her  carried  where  ever  he  thought  best, 

in.  So  long  as  breath  and  hable  puissaunce 
Did  native  corage  unto  him  supply, 
His  pace  he  freshly  forward  did  advaunce, 
And  carried  her  beyond  all  jeopardy; 
But  nought  that  wanteth  rest  can  long  aby : 
He,  having  through  incessant  traveill  spent 
His  force,  at  last  perforce  adowne  did  ly, 
Ne  foot  could  further  move.     The  Lady  gent 
Thereat  was  suddein  strook  with  great  astonishment; 

iv.  And,  forst  t'  alight,  on  foote  mote  algates  fare 
A  traveiler  unwonted  to  such  way : 
Need  teacheth  her  this  lesson  hard  and  rare, 

Book  III— Canto  VII  423 

That  fortune  all  in  equall  launce  doth  sway, 

And  mortall  miseries  doth  make  her  play. 

So  long  she  traveild,  till  at  length  she  came 

To  an  hilles  side,  which  did  to  her  bewray 

A  litle  valley  subject  to  the  same, 

All  coverd  with  thick  woodes  that  quite  it  overcame, 

v.  Through  the  tops  of  the  high  trees  she  did  descry 
A  litle  smoke,  whose  vapour  thin  and  light 
Reeking  aloft  uprolled  to  the  sky: 
Which  chearefull  signe  did  send  unto  her  sight 
That  in  the  same  did  wonne  some  living  wight. 
Eftsoones  her  steps  she  thereunto  applyd, 
And  came  at  last  in  weary  wretched  plight 
Unto  the  place,  to  which  her  hope  did  guyde, 
To  finde  some  refuge  there,  and  rest  her  wearie  syde. 

vi.  There  in  a  gloomy  hollow  glen  she  found 
A  little  cottage,  built  of  stickes  and  reedes 
In  homely  wize,  and  wald  with  sods  around; 
In  which  a  witch  did  dwell,  in  loathly  weedes 
And  wilfull  want,  all  carelesse  of  her  needes; 
So  choosing  solitarie  to  abide 
Far  from  all  neighbours,  that  her  divelish  deedes 
And  hellish  arts  from  people  she  might  hide, 
And  hurt  far  off  unknowne  whom  ever  she  envide. 

vii.  The  Damzell  there  arriving  entred  in; 

Where  sitting  on  the  flore  the  Hag  she  found 

Busie  (as  seem'd)  about  some  wicked  gin: 

Who,  soone  as  she  beheld  that  suddein  stound, 

Lightly  upstarted  from  the  dustie  ground, 

And  with  fell  looke  and  hollow  deadly  gaze 

Stared  on  her  awhile,  as  one  astound, 

Ne  had  one  word  to  speake  for  great  amaze, 

But  shewd  by  outward  signes  that  dread  her  sence  did  daze. 

viii.  At  last,  turning  her  feare  to  foolish  wrath, 

She  askt,  what  devill  had  her  thither  brought, 
And  who  she  was,  and  what  unwonted  path 
Had  guided  her,  unwelcomed,  unsought? 
To  which  the  Damzell,  full  of  doubtfull  thought, 
Her  mildly  answer'd:  "  Beldame,  be  not  wroth 

424  The  Faerie  Queene 

With  silly  Virgin,  by  adventure  brought 

Unto  your  dwelling,  ignorant  and  loth, 

That  crave  but  rowme  to  rest  while  tempest  overblo'th.1 

ix.  With  that  adowne  out  of  her  christall  eyne 
Few  trickling  teares  she  softly  forth  let  fall, 
That  like  two  orient  perles  did  purely  shyne 
Upon  her  snowy  cheeke;  and  therewithall 
She  sighed  soft,  that  none  so  bestiall 
Nor  salvage  hart,  but  ruth  of  her  sad  plight 
Would  make  to  melt,  or  pitteously  appall ; 
And  that  vile  Hag,  all  were  her  whole  delight 
In  mischief e,  was  much  moved  at  so  pitteous  sight; 

X.  And  gan  recomfort  her  in  her  rude  wyse, 
With  womanish  compassion  of  her  plaint, 
Wiping  the  teares  from  her  suffused  eyes, 
And  bidding  her  sit  downe,  to  rest  her  faint 
And  wearie  limbes  awhile.     She,  nothing  quaint 
Nor  'sdeignfull  of  so  homely  fashion, 
Sith  brought  she  was  now  to  so  hard  constraint, 
Sate  downe  upon  the  dusty  ground  anon; 
As  glad  of  that  small  rest  as  Bird  of  tempest  gon. 

xi.  Tho  gan  she  gather  up  her  garments  rent, 
And  her  loose  lockes  to  dight  in  order  dew 
With  golden  wreath  and  gorgeous  ornament; 
Whom  such  whenas  the  wicked  Hag  did  vew, 
She  was  astonisht  at  her  heavenly  hew, 
And  doubted  her  to  deeme  an  earthly  wight, 
But  or  some  Goddesse,  or  of  Dianes  crew, 
And  thought  her  to  adore  with  humble  spright: 
T'  adore  thing  so  divine  as  beauty  were  but  right. 

xii.  This  wicked  woman  had  a  wicked  sonne, 
The  comfort  of  her  age  and  weary  dayes, 
A  laesy  loord,  for  nothing  good  to  donne, 
But  stretched  forth  in  ydlenesse  alwayes, 
Ne  ever  cast  his  mind  to  covet  prayse, 
Or  ply  himselfe  to  any  honest  trade, 
But  all  the  day  before  the  sunny  rayes 
He  us'd  to  slug,  or  sleepe  in  slothfull  shade: 
Such  laesinesse  both  lewd  and  poore  attonce  him  made. 

Book  III— Canto  VII 


xiii.  He,  comming  home  at  undertime,  there  found 
The  fayrest  creature  that  he  ever  saw 
Sitting  beside  his  mother  on  the  ground; 
The  sight  whereof  did  greatly  him  adaw, 
And  his  base  thought  with  terrour  and  with  aw 
So  inly  smot,  that  as  one,  which  hath  gaz'd 
On  the  bright  Sunne  unwares,  doth  soone  withdraw 
His  feeble  eyne,  with  too  much  brightnes  daz'd, 
So  stared  he  on  her,  and  stood  long  while  amaz'd. 

xiv.  Softly  at  last  he  gan  his  mother  aske, 

What  mister  wight  that  was,  and  whence  deriv'd, 
That  in  so  straunge  disguizement  there  did  maske, 
And  by  what  accident  she  there  arriv'd  ? 
But  she,  as  one  nigh  of  her  wits  depriv'd, 
With  nought  but  ghastly  lookes  him  answered; 
Like  to  a  ghost,  that  lately  is  reviv'd 
From  Stygian  shores  where  late  it  wandered: 
So  both  at  her,  and  each  at  other  wondered. 

xv.  But  the  fayre  Virgin  was  so  meeke  and  myld, 
That  she  to  them  vouchsafed  to  embace 
Her  goodly  port,  and  to  their  senses  vyld 
Her  gentle  speach  applyde,  that  in  short  space 
She  grew  familiare  in  that  desert  place. 
During  which  time  the  Chorle,  through  her  so  kind 
And  courteise  use,  conceiv'd  affection  bace, 
And  cast  to  love  her  in  his  brutish  mind : 
No  love,  but  brutish  lust,  that  was  so  beastly  tind. 

xvi.  Closely  the  wicked  flame  his  bowels  brent, 
And  shortly  grew  into  outrageous  fire; 
Yet  had  he  not  the  hart,  nor  hardiment, 
As  unto  her  to  utter  his  desire; 
His  cay tive  thought  durst  not  so  high  aspire : 
But  with  soft  sighes  and  lovely  semblaunces 
He  ween'd  that  his  affection  entire 
She  should  aread;  many  resemblaunces 
To  her  he  made,  and  many  kinde  remembraunces. 

xvii.  Oft  from  the  forrest  wildings  he  did  bring, 

Whose  sides  empurpled  were  with  smyling  red ; 
And  oft  young  birds,  which  he  had  taught  to  sing, 

426  The  Faerie  Queene 

His  maistresse  praises  sweetly  caroled : 
Girlonds  of  flowres  sometimes  for  her  faire  hed 
He  fine  would  dight;  sometimes  the  squirrell  wild 
He  brought  to  her  in  bands,  as  conquered 
To  be  her  thrall,  his  fellow-servant  vild : 
All  which  she  of  him  tooke  with  countenance  meeke 
and  mild. 

xviii.  But,  past  a  while,  when  she  fit  season  saw 
To  leave  that  desert  mansion,  she  cast 
In  secret  wize  herselfe  thence  to  withdraw, 
For  feare  of  mischiefe,  which  she  did  forecast 
Might  by  the  witch  or  by  her  sonne  compast. 
Her  wearie  Palfrey,  closely  as  she  might, 
Now  well  recovered  after  long  repast, 
In  his  proud  furnitures  she  freshly  dight, 
His  late  miswandred  wayes  now  to  remeasure  right. 

xix.  And  earely,  ere  the  dawning  day  appear'd, 
She  forth  issewed,  and  on  her  journey  went: 
She  went  in  perill,  of  each  noyse  afieard, 
And  of  each  shade  that  did  it  selfe  present; 
For  still  she  feared  to  be  overhent 
Of  that  vile  hag,  or  her  uncivile  sonne ; 
Who  when,  too  late  awaking,  well  they  kent 
That  their  fayre  guest  was  gone,  they  both  begonne 
To  make  exceeding  mone,  as  they  had  been  undonne. 

xx.  But  that  lewd  lover  did  the  most  lament 
For  her  depart,  that  ever  man  did  heare : 
He  knockt  his  brest  with  desperate  intent, 
And  scratcht  his  face,  and  with  his  teeth  did  teare 
His  rugged  flesh,  and  rent  his  ragged  heare; 
That  his  sad  mother,  seeing  his  sore  plight, 
Was  greatly  woe  begon,  and  gan  to  feare 
Least  his  fraile  senses  were  emperisht  quight, 
And  love  to  frenzy  turnd,  sith  love  is  franticke  hight. 

xxi.  All  wayes  shee  sought  him  to  restore  to  plight, 

With  herbs,  with  charms,  with  counsel,  and  with  teares ; 
But  tears,  nor  charms,  nor  herbs,  nor  counsell,  might 
Asswage  the  fury  which  his  entrails  teares : 
So  strong  is  passion  that  no  reason  heares. 
Tho  when  all  other  helpes  she  saw  to  faile, 

Book  III— Canto  VII  427 

She  turnd  her  selfe  backe  to  her  wicked  leares; 

And  by  her  divelish  arts  thought  to  prevaile 

To  bringe  her  backe  againe,  or  worke  her  finall  bale, 

xxii.  Eftesoones  out  of  her  hidden  cave  she  cald 
An  hideous  beast  of  horrible  aspect, 
That  could  the  stoutest  corage  have  appald ; 
Monstrous,  mishapt,  and  all  his  backe  was  spect 
With  thousand  spots  of  colours  queint  elect, 
Thereto  so  swifte  that  it  all  beasts  did  pas: 
Like  never  yet  did  living  eie  detect; 
But  likest  it  to  an  Hyena  was, 
That  feeds  on  wemens  flesh  as  others  feede  on  gras. 

xxiii.  It  forth  she  cald,  and  gave  it  streight  in  charge 
Through  thicke  and  thin  her  to  poursew  apace, 
Ne  once  to  stay  to  rest,  or  breath  at  large, 
Till  her  he  had  attaind  and  brought  in  place, 
Or  quite  devourd  her  beauties  scornefull  grace. 
The  Monster,  swifte  as  word  that  from  her  went, 
Went  forth  in  haste,  and  did  her  footing  trace 
So  sure  and  swiftly,  through  his  perfect  sent 
And  passing  speede,  that  shortly  he  her  overhent. 

xxiv.  Whom  when  the  fearefull  Damzell  nigh  espide, 
No  need  to  bid  her  fast  away  to  flie : 
That  ugly  shape  so  sore  her  terrifide, 
That  it  she  shund  no  lesse  then  dread  to  die; 
And  her  flitt  palfrey  did  so  well  apply 
His  nimble  feet  to  her  conceived  feare, 
That  whilest  his  breath  did  strength  to  him  supply, 
From  peril  free  he  her  away  did  beare; 
But  when  his  force  gan  faile  his  pace  gan  wex  areare. 

xxv.  Which  whenas  she  perceiv'd,  she  was  dismayd 
At  that  same  last  extremity  ful  sore, 
And  of  her  safety  greatly  grew  afrayd. 
And  now  she  gan  approch  to  the  sea  shore, 
As  it  befell,  that  she  could  flie  no  more, 
But  yield  herself e  to  spoile  of  greedinesse: 
Lightly  she  leaped,  as  a  wight  forlore, 
From  her  dull  horse,  in  desperate  distresse, 
And  to  her  feet  betooke  her  doubtfull  sickernesse. 


The  Faerie  Queene 

xxvi.  Not  halfe  so  fast  the  wicked  Myrrha  fled 
From  dread  of  her  revenging  fathers  hond; 
Nor  halfe  so  fast  to  save  her  maydenhed 
Fled  fearfull  Daphne  on  th'  ^Egsean  strond, 
As  Florimell  fled  from  that  Monster  yond, 
To  reach  the  sea  ere  she  of  him  were  raught: 
For  in  the  sea  to  drowne  herselfe  she  fond, 
Rather  then  of  the  tyrant  to  be  caught : 
Thereto  fear  gave  her  wings,  and  need  her  corage  taught. 

xxvii.  It  fortuned  (high  God  did  so  ordaine) 
As  shee  arrived  on  the  roring  shore, 
In  minde  to  leape  into  the  mighty  maine, 
A  little  bote  lay  hoving  her  before, 
In  which  there  slept  a  fisher  old  and  pore, 
The  whiles  his  nets  were  drying  on  the  sand. 
Into  the  same  shee  lept,  and  with  the  ore 
Did  thrust  the  shallop  from  the  floting  strand : 
So  safety  fownd  at  sea  which  she  fownd  not  at  land. 

xxviii.  The  Monster,  ready  on  the  pray  to  sease, 
Was  of  his  forward  hope  deceived  quight; 
Ne  durst  assay  to  wade  the  perlous  seas, 
But  greedily  long  gaping  at  the  sight, 
At  last  in  vaine  was  forst  to  turne  his  flight, 
And  tell  the  idle  tidings  to  his  Dame : 
Yet,  to  avenge  his  divelish  despight, 
He  sett  upon  her  Palfrey  tired  lame, 
And  slew  him  cruelly  ere  any  reskew  came. 

xxix.  And,  after  having  him  embowelled 

To  fill  his  hellish  gorge,  it  chaunst  a  knight 

To  passe  that  way,  as  forth  he  travelled : 

Yt  was  a  goodly  Swaine,  and  of  great  might, 

As  ever  man  that  bloody  field  did  fight ; 

But  in  vain  sheows,  that  wont  yong  knights  bewitch, 

And  courtly  services,  tooke  no  delight; 

But  rather  joyd  to  bee  then  seemen  sich, 

For  both  to  be  and  seeme  to  him  was  labor  lich. 

xxx.  It  was  to  weete  the  good  Sir  Satyrane, 

That  raunged  abrode  to  seeke  adventures  wilde, 
As  was  his  wont,  in  forest  and  in  plaine : 

Book  III— Canto  VII  429 

He  was  all  armd  in  rugged  Steele  unfilde, 
As  in  the  smoky  forge  it  was  compilde, 
And  in  his  Scutchin  bore  a  Satyres  hedd. 
He  comming  present,  where  the  Monster  vilde 
Upon  that  milke-white  Palfreyes  carcas  fedd, 
Unto  his  reskew  ran,  and  greedily  him  spedd. 

xxxi.  There  well  perceivd  he  that  it  was  the  horse 
Whereon  faire  Florimell  was  wont  to  ride, 
That  of  that  f eend  was  rent  without  remorse : 
Much  feared  he  least  ought  did  ill  betide 
To  that  faire  Maide,  the  flowre  of  wemens  pride; 
For  her  he  dearely  loved,  and  in  all 
His  famous  conquests  highly  magnifide: 
Besides,  her  golden  girdle,  which  did  fall 
From  her  in  flight,  he  fownd,  that  did  him  sore  apall. 

xxxii.  Full  of  sad  feare  and  doubtfull  agony 

Fiercely  he  flew  upon  that  wicked  feend, 

And  with  huge  strokes  and  cruell  battery 

Him  forst  to  leave  his  pray,  for  to  attend 

Him  selfe  from  deadly  daunger  to  defend: 

Full  many  wounds  in  his  corrupted  flesh 

He  did  engrave,  and  muchell  blood  did  spend, 

Yet  might  not  doe  him  die :  but  aie  more  fresh 

And  fierce  he  still  appeard,  the  more  he  did  him  thresh. 

xxxiii.  He  wist  not  how  him  to  despoile  of  life, 
Ne  how  to  win  the  wished  victory, 
Sith  him  he  saw  still  stronger  grow  through  strife, 
And  him  selfe  weaker  through  infirmity* 
Greatly  he  grew  enrag'd,  and  furiously 
Hurling  his  sword  away  he  lightly  lept 
Upon  the  beast,  that  with  great  cruelty 
Rored  and  raged  to  be  underkept; 
Yet  he  perforce  him  held,  and  strokes  upon  him  hept. 

xxxiv.  As  he  that  strives  to  stop  a  suddein  flood, 
And  in  strong  bancks  his  violence  enclose, 
Forceth  it  swell  above  his  wonted  mood, 
And  largely  overflow  the  fruitfull  plaine, 
That  all  the  countrey  seemes  to  be  a  Maine, 
And  the  rich  furrowes  flote,  all  quite  fordonne: 

43°  The  Faerie  Queene 

The  wofull  husbandman  doth  lowd  complaine 

To  see  his  whole  yeares  labor  lost  so  soone, 

For  which  to  God  he  made  so  many  an  idle  boone: 

xxxv.  So  him  he  held,  and  did  through  might  amate, 
So  long  he  held  him,  and  him  bett  so  long, 
That  at  the  last  his  fiercenes  gan  abate, 
And  meekely  stoup  unto  the  victor  strong: 
Who,  to  avenge  the  implacable  wrong 
Which  he  supposed  donne  to  Florimell, 
Sought  by  all  meanes  his  dolor  to  prolong, 
Sith  dint  of  Steele  his  carcas  could  not  quell; 
His  maker  with  her  charmes  had  framed  him  so  well. 

xxxvi.  The  golden  ribband,  which  that  virgin  wore 
About  her  sclender  waste,  he  tooke  in  hand, 
And  with  it  bownd  the  beast,  that  lowd  did  rore 
For  great  despight  of  that  unwonted  band, 
Yet  dared  not  his  victor  to  withstand, 
But  trembled  like  a  lambe  fled  from  the  pray; 
And  all  the  way  him  followd  on  the  strand, 
As  he  had  long  bene  learned  to  obay; 
Yet  never  learned  he  such  service  till  that  day, 

xxxvii.  Thus  as  he  led  the  Beast  along  the  way, 
He  spide  far  off  a  mighty  Giauntesse 
Fast  flying,  on  a  Courser  dapled  gray, 
From  a  bold  knight  that  with  great  hardinesse 
Her  hard  pursewed,  and  sought  for  to  suppresse. 
She  bore  before  her  lap  a  doleful  Squire, 
Lying  athwart  her  horse  in  great  distresse, 
Fast  bounden  hand  and  foote  with  cords  of  wire, 
Whom  she  did  meane  to  make  the  thrall  of  her  desire. 

xxxviii.  Which  whenas  Satyrane  beheld,  in  haste 
He  lefte  his  captive  Beast  at  liberty, 
And  crost  the  nearest  way,  by  which  he  cast 
Her  to  encounter  ere  she  passed  by; 
But  she  the  way  shund  nathemore  forthy, 
But  forward  gallopt  fast;  which  when  he  spyde, 
His  mighty  speare  he  couched  warily, 
And  at  her  ran :  she,  having  him  descryde, 
Her  selfe  to  fight  addrest,  and  threw  her  lode  aside. 

Book  III— Canto  VII  431 

xxxix.  Like  as  a  Goshauke,  that  in  foote  doth  beare 
A  trembling  Culver,  having  spide  on  hight 
An  Eagle  that  with  plumy  wings  doth  sheare 
The  subtile  ayre  stouping  with  all  his  might, 
The  quarry  throwes  to  ground  with  fell  despight, 
And  to  the  batteill  doth  her  selfe  prepare: 
So  ran  the  Geauntesse  unto  the  fight; 
Her  fyrie  eyes  with  furious  sparkes  did  stare, 
And  with  blasphemous  bannes  high  God  in  peeces  tare. 

XL.  She  caught  in  hand  an  huge  great  yron  mace, 
Wherewith  she  many  had  of  life  depriv'd ; 
But,  ere  the  stroke  could  seize  his  aymed  place, 
His  speare  amids  her  sun-brode  shield  arriv'd: 
Yet  nathemore  the  Steele  asonder  riv'd, 
All  were  the  beame  in  bignes  like  a  mast, 
Ne  her  out  of  the  stedfast  sadle  driv'd ; 
But,  glauncing  on  the  tempred  metall,  brast 
In  thousand  shivers,  and  so  forth  beside  her  past* 

xli.  Her  Steed  did  stagger  with  that  puissaunt  strooke; 
But  she  no  more  was  moved  with  that  might 
Then  it  had  lighted  on  an  aged  Oke, 
Or  on  the  marble  Pillour  that  is  pight 
Upon  the  top  of  Mount  Olympus  hight, 
For  the  brave  youthly  Champions  to  assay 
With  burning  charet  wheeles  it  nigh  to  smite ; 
But  who  that  smites  it  mars  his  joyous  play, 
And  is  the  spectacle  of  ruinous  decay. 

xlii.  Yet,  therewith  sore  enrag'd,  with  sterne  regard 
Her  dreadfull  weapon  she  to  him  addrest, 
Which  on  his  helmet  martelled  so  hard 
That  made  him  low  incline  his  lofty  crest, 
And  bowd  his  battred  visour  to  his  brest: 
Wherewith  he  was  so  stund  that  he  n'ote  ryde, 
But  reeled  to  and  fro  from  east  to  west. 
Which  when  his  cruell  enimy  espyde, 
She  lightly  unto  him  adjoyned  syde  to  syde; 

xliii.  And,  on  his  collar  laying  puissaunt  hand, 

Out  of  his  wavering  seat  him  pluckt  perforse, 
Perforse  him  pluckt,  unable  to  withstand 

432  The  Faerie  Queene 

Or  helpe  himselfe;  and  laying  thwart  her  horse, 

In  loathly  wise  like  to  a  carrion  corse, 

She  bore  him  fast  away.     Which  when  the  knight 

That  her  pursewed  saw,  with  great  remorse 

He  nere  was  touched  in  his  noble  spright, 

And  gan  encrease  his  speed  as  she  encreast  her  flight. 

xliv*  Whom  when  as  nigh  approching  she  espyde, 
She  threw  away  her  burden  angrily ; 
For  she  list  not  the  batteill  to  abide, 
But  made  her  selfe  more  light  away  to  fly: 
Yet  her  the  hardy  knight  pursewd  so  nye 
That  almost  in  the  backe  he  oft  her  strake; 
But  still,  when  him  at  hand  she  did  espy, 
She  turnd,  and  semblaunce  of  faire  fight  did  make, 
But,  when  he  stayd,  to  flight  againe  she  did  her  take. 

xlv.  By  this  the  good  Sir  Satyrane  gan  awake 

Out  of  his  dreame  that  did  him  long  entraunce, 
And,  seeing  none  in  place,  he  gan  to  make 
Exceeding  mone,  and  curst  that  cruell  chaunce 
Which  reft  from  him  so  faire  a  chevisaunce. 
At  length  he  spyde  whereas  that  wofull  Squyre, 
Whom  he  had  reskewed  from  captivaunce 
Of  his  strong  foe,  lay  tombled  in  the  myre, 
Unable  to  arise,  or  foote  or  hand  to  styre. 

xlvi.  To  whom  approching,  well  he  mote  perceive 
In  that  fowle  plight  a  comely  personage 
And  lovely  face,  made  fit  for  to  deceive 
Fraile  Ladies  hart  with  loves  consuming  rage, 
Now  in  the  blossome  of  his  freshest  age. 
He  reard  him  up  and  loosd  his  yron  bands, 
And  after  gan  inquire  his  parentage, 
And  how  he  fell  into  the  Gyaunts  hands, 
And  who  that  was  which  chaced  her  along  the  lands. 

xlvii.  Then  trembling  yet  through  feare  the  Squire  bespake: 
"  That  Geauntesse  Argante  is  behight, 
A  daughter  of  the  Titans  which  did  make 
Warre  against  heven,  and  heaped  hils  on  hight 
To  scale  the  skyes  and  put  Jove  from  his  right: 
Her  syre  Typhoeus  was;  who,  mad  through  merth, 

Book  Ill—Canto  VII  433 

And  dronke  with  blood  of  men  slaine  by  his  might, 
Through  incest  her  of  his  owne  mother  Earth 
Whylome  begot,  being  but  halfe  twin  of  that  berth: 

xlviii.  "  For  at  that  berth  another  Babe  she  bore; 

To  weet,  the  mightie  Ollyphant,  that  wrought 

Great  wreake  to  many  errant  knights  of  yore, 

And  many  hath  to  foule  confusion  brought. 

These  twinnes,  men  say,  (a  thing  far  passing  thought) 

While  in  their  mothers  wombe  enclosd  they  were, 

Ere  they  into  the  lightsom  world  were  brought, 

In  fleshly  lust  were  mingled  both  yfere, 

And  in  that  monstrous  wise  did  to  the  world  appere. 

xlix.  "  So  liv'd  they  ever  after  in  like  sin, 

Gainst  natures  law  and  good  behaveoure; 

But  greatest  shame  was  to  that  maiden  twin, 

Who,  not  content  so  fowly  to  devoure 

Her  native  flesh  and  staine  her  brothers  bowre, 

Did  wallow  in  all  other  fleshly  myre, 

And  sufTred  beastes  her  body  to  deflowre, 

So  whot  she  burned  in  that  lustf ull  fy re ; 

Yet  all  that  might  not  slake  her  sensuall  desyre : 

L.  "  But  over  all  the  countrie  she  did  raunge 

To  seeke  young  men  to  quench  her  flaming  thrust, 

And  feed  her  fancy  with  delightfull  chaunge  : 

Whom  so  she  fittest  Andes  to  serve  her  lust, 

Through  her  maine  strength,  in  which  she  most  doth  trust, 

She  with  her  bringes  into  a  secret  He, 

Where  in  eternall  bondage  dye  he  must, 

Or  be  the  vassall  of  her  pleasures  vile, 

And  in  all  shamefull  sort  him  selfe  with  her  defile. 

li.  "  Me,  seely  wretch,  she  so  at  vauntage  caught, 
After  she  long  in  waite  for  me  did  lye, 
And  meant  unto  her  prison  to  have  brought, 
Her  lothsom  pleasure  there  to  satisfye  ; 
That  thousand  deathes  me  lever  were  to  dye 
Then  breake  the  vow  that  to  faire  Columbell 
I  plighted  have,  and  yet  keepe  stedfastly. 
As  for  my  name,  it  mistreth  not  to  tell : 
Call  me  the  Squyre  of  Dames;  that  me  beseemeth  well. 

434  The  Faerie  Queene 

lii.  "  But  that  bold  knight,  whom  ye  pursuing  saw 
That  Geauntesse,  is  not  such  as  she  seemd, 
But  a  faire  virgin  that  in  martiall  law 
And  deedes  of  armes  above  all  Dames  is  deemd, 
And  above  many  knightes  is  eke  esteemd 
For  her  great  worth:  She  Palladine  is  hight. 
She  you  from  death,  you  me  from  dread,  redeemd ; 
Ne  any  may  that  Monster  match  in  fight, 
But  she,  or  such  as  she,  that  is  so  chaste  a  wight." 

Lin.  "  Her  well  beseemes  that  Quest/'  (quoth  Satyrane) 
"  But  read,  thou  Squyre  of  Dames,  what  vow  is  this. 
Which  thou  upon  thy  selfe  hast  lately  ta'ne?  " 
"  That  shall  I  you  recount,"  (quoth  he)  "  ywis, 
So  be  ye  pleasd  to  pardon  all  amis. 
That  gentle  Lady  whom  I  love  and  serve, 
After  long  suit  and  wearie  servicis, 
Did  aske  me,  how  I  could  her  love  deserve, 
And  how  she  might  be  sure  that  I  would  never  swerve  ? 

Liv.  "  I,  glad  by  any  meanes  her  grace  to  gaine, 
Badd  her  commaund  my  life  to  save  or  spill. 
Eftsoones  she  badd  me,  with  incessaunt  paine 
To  wander  through  the  world  abroad  at  will, 
And  every  where,  where  with  my  power  or  skill 
I  might  doe  service  unto  gentle  Dames, 
That  I  the  same  should  faithfully  fulfill; 
And  at  the  twelve  monethes  end  should  bring  their  names 
And  pledges,  as  the  spoiles  of  my  victorious  games. 

lv.  "  So  well  I  to  faire  Ladies  service  did, 

And  found  such  favour  in  their  loving  hartes, 

That  ere  the  yeare  his  course  had  compassid, 

Thre  hundred  pledges  for  my  good  desartes, 

And  thrice  three  hundred  thanks  for  my  good  partes, 

I  with  me  brought,  and  did  to  her  present : 

Which  when  she  saw,  more  bent  to  eke  my  smartes 

Then  to  reward  my  trusty  true  intent, 

She  gan  for  me  devise  a  grievous  punishment 

lvi.  "  To  weet,  that  I  my  traveill  should  resume, 
And  with  like  labour  walke  the  world  arownd, 
Ne  ever  to  her  presence  should  presume, 

Book  III— Canto  VII 


Till  I  so  many  other  Dames  had  fownd, 

The  which,  for  all  the  suit  I  could  propownd, 

Would  me  refuse  their  pledges  to  afford, 

But  did  abide  for  ever  chaste  and  sownd." 

"  Ah !  gentle  Squyre,"  (quoth  he)  "  tell  at  one  word, 

How  many  fownd'st  thou  such  to  put  in  thy  record?  " 

lvii.  "  Indeed,  Sir  knight,"  (said  he)  "  one  word  may  tell 
All  that  I  ever  fownd  so  wisely  stayd, 
For  onely  three  they  were  disposd  so  well; 
And  yet  three  yeares  I  now  abrode  have  strayd, 
To  fynd  them  out."     "  Mote  I,"  (then  laughing  sayd 
The  knight)  "  inquire  of  thee  what  were  those  three, 
The  which  thy  proffred  curtesie  denayd? 
Or  ill  they  seemed  sure  avizd  to  bee, 
Or  brutishly  brought  up,  that  nev'r  did  fashions  see." 

lviii.  "  The  first  which  then  refused  me,"  (said  hee) 
"  Certes  was  but  a  common  Courtisane; 
Yet  flat  refusd  to  have  adoe  with  mee, 
Because  I  could  not  give  her  many  a  Jane." 
(Thereat  full  hartely  laughed  Satyrane.) 
"  The  second  was  an  holy  Nunne  to  chose, 
Which  would  not  let  me  be  her  Chappellane, 
Because  she  knew,  she  said,  I  would  disclose 
Her  counsell,  if  she  should  her  trust  in  me  repose. 

lix.  "  The  third  a  Damzell  was  of  low  degree, 

Whom  I  in  countrey  cottage  fownd  by  chaunce: 
Full  litle  weened  I  that  chastitee 
Had  lodging  in  so  meane  a  maintenaunce  ; 
Yet  wras  she  fayre,  and  in  her  countenaunce 
Dwelt  simple  truth  in  seemely  fashion. 
Long  thus  I  woo'd  her  with  due  observaunce, 
In  hope  unto  my  pleasure  to  have  won; 
But  was  as  far  at  last,  as  when  I  first  begon. 

lx.  "  Safe  her,  I  never  any  woman  found 
That  chastity  did  for  it  selfe  embrace, 
But  were  for  other  causes  flrme  and  sound; 
Either  for  want  of  handsome  time  and  place, 
Or  else  for  feare  of  shame  and  fowle  disgrace. 
Thus  am  I  hopelesse  ever  to  attaine 

436  The  Faerie  Queene 

My  Ladies  love  in  such  a  desperate  case, 
But  all  my  dayes  am  like  to  waste  in  vaine, 
Seeking  to  match  the  chaste  with  th'  unchaste  Ladie 

lxi.  "  Perdy  "  (sayd  Satyrane)  "  thou  Squyre  of  Dames, 
Great  labour  fondly  hast  thou  hent  in  hand, 
To  get  small  thankes,  and  therewith  many  blames, 
That  may  emongst  Alcides  labours  stand." 
Thence  backe  returning  to  the  former  land, 
Where  late  he  left  the  Beast  he  overcame, 
He  found  him  not;  for  he  had  broke  his  band, 
And  was  returnd  againe  unto  his  Dame, 
To  tell  what  tydings  of  fayre  Florimell  became. 

Book  III— Canto  VIII 



The  Witch  creates  a  snowy  La- 
dy like  to  Florimell; 

Who  wrong'd  by  Carle,  by  Proteus  sav'd, 
Is  sought  by  Paridell. 

i.  So  oft  as  I  this  history  record, 
My  heart  doth  melt  with  meere  compassion, 
To  thinke  how  causelesse,  of  her  owne  accord, 
This  gentle  Damzell,  whom  I  write  upon, 
Should  plonged  be  in  such  affliction 
Without  all  hope  of  comfort  or  reliefe; 
That  sure,  I  weene,  the  hardest  hart  of  stone 
Would  hardly  finde  to  aggravate  her  griefe ; 
For  misery  craves  rather  mercy  then  repriefe. 

ii.  But  that  accursed  Hag,  her  hostesse  late, 
Had  so  enranckled  her  malitious  hart, 
That  she  desyrd  th'  abridgement  of  her  fate, 
Or  long  enlargement  of  her  painefull  smart. 
Now  when  the  Beast,  which  by  her  wicked  art 
Late  foorth  she  sent,  she  backe  retourning  spyde 
Tyde  with  her  golden  girdle;  it  a  part 
Of  her  rich  spoyles  whom  he  had  earst  destroyd 
She  weend,  and  wondrous  gladnes  to  her  hart  apply de. 

in.  And,  with  it  ronning  hast'ly  to  her  sonne, 

Thought  with  that  sight  him  much  to  have  reliv'd 
Who,  thereby  deeming  sure  the  thing  as  donne, 
His  former  griefe  with  furie  fresh  reviv'd 
Much  more  than  earst,  and  would  have  algates  riv'd 
The  hart  out  of  his  brest :  for  sith  her  dedd 
He  surely  dempt,  himselfe  he  thought  depriv'd 
Quite  of  all  hope  wherewith  he  long  had  fedd 
His  foolish  malady,  and  long  time  had  misledd. 

iv.  With  thought  whereof  exceeding  mad  he  grew, 
And  in  his  rage  his  mother  would  have  slaine, 
Had  she  not  fled  into  a  secret  mew, 

438  The  Faerie  Queene 

Where  she  was  wont  her  Sprightes  to  entertaine, 

The  maisters  of  her  art :  there  was  she  f aine 

To  call  them  all  in  order  to  her  ayde, 

And  them  conjure,